PS 3505 

.L68 ne 

1901 
Copy 1 



.A MODERN 
MAGDALEN 



AN ORIGINAL DRAMA 
IN THREE ACTS 



jl 



BY 

ISABEL 
MONCRIEFF 



CopyrlgKt 1901 by 
Helena Clendenen 



A MODERN 
MAGDALEN 

AN ORIGINAL DRAMA IN THREE ACTS 
BY ISABEL MONCRIEFF 









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Copyright 1901, Bv Helena Clendenen 

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'"^f LIBRARY OfT 
CONGRESS, I 

-") Copied REosivrDJ 

^'^^■^' n 1902] 






P53S05^ 



CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY 

Col. Roger Fairfax, U. S. V. 

Capt. Cajetan Cardenas \ 

Dick Speedwell ^ of the Fairfax Roughriders. 

Texas Harding ; 

General Rivers, commanding the U. S. forces in Cuba. 

Dr. Diego Otero, steward and self-appointed physician 
on the Juarez plantation. 

Jose Quitas, overseer on the Juarez plantation. 

Tonio, a Juarez possession. 

Magdalen van Orsdale, an American heiress. 

Lolita Juarez, cousin to Cardenas, and owner of rich 
Cuban estates. 

Marthy Stebbins, aunt to her community. 

Madge Stebbins, her adopted child. 

Sarah Ann Ford, Aunt Marthy's "helpmeet." 

La Rosa, a Santiago dancer, and protegee of Lolita Juarez. 

A maidservant. 

Soldiers, Red Cross nurses, musicians, etc. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN. 

A Drama in Three Acts. 
By Isabel Moncrieff. 



ACT I. 

At the Stebbins farm on Long Island in early June of 
1898. 

Scene I. — The dooryard of the old farmhouse. In the 
extreme left foreground stands the house. But one side 
is visible and is seen obliquely. Across its entire width 
is a covered porch which at the upper corner shows its con- 
tinuance around the house. A door and window open onto 
the porch. The steps directly opposite the dooi- are 
broad and low. From them lead two much worn foot- 
paths, one running to the left, the other to the right in 
the immediate foreground. 

At the left stands a large tree whose !< wer branches 
touch the porch-roof. At ihe extreme right i.s a clump 
of trees. One of them is circled by a broad shelf whit-h 
serves as a tabie. in cuuveiiient proximity t-> ihis stand 
a rustic seat and bench. 

A large tree occupies the middle foregi'ound. Between 
it and the pillar in the elbow of the porch is slung a 
hammock. 

In the background the yard slopes smoothly to the sea. 

There is an entrance at the left from behind the house. 

It is early morning. 

At the rise of the curtain Madge is discovered sitting 
comfortably among the pillows in the hammock — her face 
turned to the sea. Her sunbonnet dangles at her back. 
She stretches her arms and yawns. 

Sarah Ann appears in the doorway, which is screened. 
Her gingham gown ai.d apron are in Keeping v/ith lier face 
and form — clean, stiff, precise. Throughout the play her 
costume varies only in color and pattern of goods. 

Sarah Ann (in a shrill, rasping voice.) — Maggie! 

Madge falls quickly back among the pillows and, closing 
her eyes, assumes a posture of sleepful repose. 

Sarah Ann, flapping hei- apron to clear the door of flies, 
comes out, closing the screen quickly. 

Sarah Ann (a note of anger added) — Maggie! 

Aunt Marthy (from within I — She was right on the steps 
jes' a teeny spell ago. I guess she haint fer off. 

Sarah Ann (snappishly) — No, I guess she haint. 

Aunt Marthy (still within) — Call thet 1 want 'er, Sairey 
Ann. 

Sarah Ann (stubbornly) — Ef she can't hear one word, 
Sairey Ann Ford haint a-wastin" no time' screechin" more. 
(Shooing at the flies again, she goes in.) 

Aunt Marthy appears in the doorway. She is stout, 
hearty, red-cheeked ; her hair still glossy lihic k. her 
eyes bright. She pushes her glasses upon her head. 

Aunt Marthy (in a despairing tone addressed within) — 
I dunno which tries my pjitience m.ost — you er Madge. One 
o' ye"s got to give in.' It "pears like you might begin by 



6 ^ A MODERN MAGDALEN 

namin' 'er right. Maggie she wont never answer to ef 
ye 'uz to call till kingdom come. (Comes out to the 
steps;, u Madge : Ma-a-cige ! 

Madge (sleepily) — Is it time to get up? 

Aunt Marthy coming down crosses to the rustic-bench 
and seats herself. She puts her glasses in place on her 
nose and calmly watches Madge. 

Madge yawns and opening her eyes lets a bewildered 
glance fall on Aunt Marthy. 

Madge (sitting up) — .How long have I been asleep? 

Aunt Marthy (patiently) — I guess ye can answer thet 
best yerself. Ye" re 'nuff 'wake now to hear me, an' I hev 
sunthin' to say to ye. 

Madge, fidgeting with her bonnet-strings, crosses to the 
rustic chair, slowly seating herself. 

Aunt Marthy — Never sence ye 'uz a teeny baby have 
ye meant to make me trouble. Be ye goin' to mean to 
iiow .' ( I'ause. lu wnich Madge hangs her head, her face 
set.) Ye're old 'nuflE now to see the right o' things, an' ye 
mus' see thet you an" me can't do the housework 'ith 
Roger here an' Magdalen a-comin'. 

Madge (jerking her bonnet and savagely biting the 
strings) — You needn't have hired Sarah Ann Ford. 

Aunt Marthy (reproachfully) — Ye know I don't want no 
hired stranger here. I know what Sairey Ann's help is, 
an' 

Madge (interrupting fiercely) — And I know what her 
tongue is. She can lord it over you 

Aurt Marthy (steruiyt — Tut. luc . Sairey Ann Ford an' 
me's ben neighbors goin' on forty year — ever sence John 
brou2ht me home a bride. She's five year older'n me, an' 
she's alius bed thet bossy way. She don't mean nothin'. 

Madge (hotly) — Don't she! Well, she can't boss me, 
the sour old maid I 

Aunt Marthy (starting and glancing apprehensively to- 
ward the house) — Tut 1 tut 1 child. Don't make things 
worse. Be a help to me. not a hiuderance. Sairey Ann's 
crotchety, there hain't no denyin' it. but 'er heart's in the 
right place. (Madge sneers.) I dunno what I'd a-done 
'ithout "er when John an' my little Annie died. She 
loved Annie nigh ez much ez I did, an" I guess she don't 
rersh it 'cause you"ve took Annie's place. 

Madge (brokenly) — That's not my fault. That doesn't 
excuse her. She always hated me. Y'ou know even when 
I was little she'd never let me inside her house. What 
right has she to come 7?rrr to taunt me? She hadn't been 
here an^ hour yesterday when she told me she'd come to 
be your helpmeet, but she didn't intend to help you coddle 
and humor and make a fine lady of a foundling-brat like 
me. ( Sobbing passionately, she buries her face in her 
crumpled bonnet.) 

Aunt Mai-t-bv (p+oi-pi^-. bor face clouded) — Ye. must 
a-done sunthin' to rile 'er ; ye — ^— 

Mndee (chokingly, as sue uucovers her face) — She came 
out here when I was reading. She said my place was in 
the kitchen; that I am no-account like — oh'! (choking and 
flingirg her arms on the shelf and hiding her face in 
them.) 

Ar'^f Marthy (rising to bend over Madge and touch 
her hair in a manner indicating unacquaintance with dem- 
onstration) — Sairev Ann savs a heap she don't mean, the 
wav lots o' other" folks does. Mebbe she knows sunthin' 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 



'bout yer antycedents, but I guess ef she lied a-knowed she'd 
a-told 'fore this. My John and my Annie both begged 'er 
when they was a-dyin' to tell ef she knowed. She wouldn't 
a-hed the' heart 

Madge (throwing her head up fiercely) — Heart! She 
hasn't any. else she'd think of 

Sarah Ann (appearing in the doorway, and interrupting 
with her rasping voice) — Marthy I 

Madge hurriedly straightens up, looking fiercely ahead 
of her. 

Aunt Marthy, with a nervous start, makes great pre- 
tense of straightening and tying her apron. 

Aunt Marthy (with unconscious meekness) — Yes, Sairey. 

Sarah Ann — Its nigh onto 7 o'clock. Time the churnin' 
uz begun. I've got to go to ironin'. There's five white 
skirts an' a white dress an' 

Aunt Marthy (hurrying toward the house) — Yes, Sairey, 
yes. I'm a-comin'. 

Sarah Ann. after the preliminary apron-fllapping, comes 
quickly out. She darts an angry glance at Madge. 

Sarah Ann (severely) — Marthy Jane Stebbins, be you 
a-goin' to do thet churnin' ? 

Aunt Marrhy Uiurrieuiy) — The cellar's a mite chilly, an' 
Madge liain't a-feelin" right peart. 

Sarah Ann (advancing huniedly to the steps and peering 
at Madge in exaggerated astonishment) — Massy sake! I 
never see 'er when she wa'n't peart. 

Madge, .jumping to her feet, faces Sarah Ann, her eyes 
burning with tier.v hate. 

Aunt Marthy ("with nervous haste) — Sairey Ann, hain't 
suvjthin' a-burnin'V 

Sarah Ann (turning to go in. with a grin of malicious 
content) — Ye don't smell nothin" a-burnin' inside the house, 
(following Aunt Marthy in). 

Madge, her face suffused with anger, stands with hands 
tightly clasped, lips parted, teeth clinched. 

Madge (stamping her foot with uncontrolled ra.ge)-— TTgh I 

Roger enters from L. He is in riding costume, whip in 
hand. Catching sight of Madg*^, he i)ulls himself up into 
a military attitude. 

lioger (levelling the wh'p at Madge i — Halt ! (Madge 
starts backward with a nervoxis shriek). Ah I (with relief) 
the danger is averted. (With a professional' air) How 
often are you taken? (Madge starts off with an injured 
air.) Don't go off now! 

Madge ( witheringly) — It pleases you to be funny. 

Roger (gravely) — Quite as much as it pains ^e to be 
sorry. 

Madge (coming back with exaggerated concern) — Y'^oa 
must be in pain now. Y'ou're (sneeringly) so sorry-looking. 
(Seating herself on the rustic bench.) 

Roger — A reflection, (taking a chair and laying his hat 
on the shelf). Your fits of anger 

Madge (with an upward tilt of her head) — Are mine. 

Roger (slowly) — Ye-e-s. And the effects we yours. If 
such wrath explodes daily, you can't last long. Take 
yesterday, for instance, and the burst was over such an old 
grievance, too. Today I suppose it's a new one. 

Madge ( gloomily) — No, an old one — Sarah Ann. 

Roger (laughing) — ^Poor Sarah Ann! 

Madge ( flaring up) — Poor Sarah Ann ! (catching her 
breath convulsively). I hate her, oh how I hate her! 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 



With her in the house life's just unbearable. She's the 
last straw. 

Roger (amused) — Then I earnestly hope a gust of Fate 
won't send her blowing out here just now. 

Madge (scornfully) — You wouldn't tind it so funny if you 
had to endure what I do from her. But 1 sha'nt put up 
with her any longer. I'm going away. 

Roger (seriously) — When do you go? 

Madge — Today. (Drumming decisively on the shelf.) 

Roger — Where ? 

Madge — As" far as I can get, and I'm never coming back. 

Roger (twirling his whip) — Do you go alone V 
Madge (eyeing him suspiciously) — You needn't think I'd 
hesitate or be afraid, just because I've never been off this 
island or farther away from home than the town where I 
went to school. 

Roger (calmly) — You're mistaken in the thought that 
prompted my question. I had a romantic idea that a damsel 
in such distress (eyeing her closely) might know of some 
noble knight who would come to her rescue. 

]SIadge (scornfully) — I guess if there were you'd be apt 
to know it. 

Roger (lightly) — Why should I? True, I heard from 
you regularly during the weeks I was abroad, but much 
might have happened since I sailed for home. As I came 
here but yesterday there might be some news I haven't 
heard. 

Madge (impatiently) — ^I'm just about as free here as I'd 
be in a cloister. You know Aunt Marthy well enough to 
be sure no man would ever come here more than once. 

Roger ( queer ly ) — No '? 

Madge — No. (Laughing shortly.) Oh, you — we've known 
you years and years. Aunt Marthy thinks you're old enough 
to be quite safe. 

Roger ^ (flinching, but quickl.y recovering himself) — But 
you go away occasionally. (Slowly.) Have you never 
met anyone whose attention you favored (watching her 
closely, Madge making no sign). Have you never thought 
of marriage as a way out of a life distasteful to you? 

Madge — It would be a waste of time, wouldn't it ? 

Roger (leaning smilingly toward her) — So you never 
waste any time in that direction? 

Madge (an elbow on the shelf, her chin in her hand) — 
Often. 

Roger (straightening up gravely) — Often I 

Madge (sighing) — Very often. (Lowering her voice.) 
Whenever (leaning confidentially toward him) I think 
of • . 

Roger (^in a low tone) — Yes? 

Madge — Stebbins 1 

Roger (flinging himself up with a laugh) — So a better 
name must be the first inducement to marriage. (Dream- 
ily) How would such a name as — as^ — (pulling himself up 
sharply) oh, such as 

Madge (impatiently, as she twirls her bonnet by the 
strings) — ^You could find a better one without looking very 
far. (Roger eyes her with a startled air of which she is 
dreamily oblivious.) Yes (throwing her bonnet over her 
head and slowly sawing the strings over her shoulders), 
every step must be labelled before I take it. There are 
three necessary. The second must be marked M-0-N-E-Y — 
lots of it (throwing her arms wide). 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 



Roger — That step leads to a whole platform. And it 
affords (a trifle sarcastically) a still higher step? 

Madge (convincingly) — Yes. For with money to lift you, 
you step into happiness, peace, content. 

Roger (in grave surprise) — ^So ! (after a pause). Happi- 
ness, peace, content ! Content — the last round of the 
ladder. There's no place for love then. 

Madge (frowning) — Love! (with disgust). Love isn't 
a thing by which to climb. It's a pitfall. 

Roger (after a long-drawn whistle) — By the shade of 
Sarah Ann ! 

Madge (flaring up) — Sarah Ann! 

Roger— It seems to me I've heard Sarah make the same 
deep reflection. 

Madge (hotly) — I'm not so dumb, Mr. Fairfax, that I 
can't have a few ideas of my owoi ! I've seen several people 
in love, and they were anything but happy. Why, they 
actually suffered ! 

Roger (rising wearily, with a sigh) — Not from love. 

Madge (severely) — Those who are supposed to know called 
it love, and each^ was acknowledged to be a very bad case. 

Roger — It must have been. But the suffering came from 
distmst and jealousy, no doubt, and these are elements of 
passion, not of love. Love knows no jealousy nor distrust, 
no suspicion nor fear. Passion breeds them all. Passion 
destroys. Love perfects. The difference between them is as 
distinct as that between day and night. God alone knows 
why the most of us need pass through the darkness of pas- 
sion to be able to recognize the purifying light of love. But 
only then do we learn that passion in its hcnt disguise is as 
like unto love as the moonlight to the sunlight. Ah, Madge ! 
life minus the knowledge of love is death. Without love 
ambition leads to nothing and labor is a curse. Love is the 
balance-wheel of the world ! 

INIadge (half-heartedly) — I envy you the discovery. 

Roger (wistfully) — And I wish you might profit by my 
experience, for like most far-reaching discoveries it entailed 
suffering. This I would spare you, Madge (leaning tenderly 
toward the slightly drooping ligure with head bowed de- 
jectedly) — spare you because you are to me — (controlling 
himself with effort) — what you always will be — (forcing a 
smile) — a child. You know it hard to think of suffering 
coming tO' a child. 

Madge (rising with mock hauteur) — Child! Sir, you of- 
fend the dignity of seventeen summers ! 

Roger (bowing low) — A pai'donable offense from one whose 
hair is turning evidence of the frosts of forty winters. 

Aunt Marthy (from within) — Land alive! I've got to 
go myself, an' I'd like to take a gun. 

Roger (astonished) — Aunt Marthy on the warpath! 

Aunt Marthy appears on. the porch, her sunbonnet in one 
hand, in the other a long-handled feather duster. Her 
cheeks are flaming, one showing up a generous daub of flour. 

Madge (to Roger) — With feathers and paint at that \ 

Roger (going toward Aunt Marthy) — May I follow you 
on the trail? I could carry the gun. 

Aunt Marthy (putting on her sunbonnet crookedly) — Eh? 
Oh ! Roger ! I'm mighty glad ye're back. I reckon I'll need 
ye. ( Coming down the steps, she raises the duster : run- 
ning her hand along the handle, she touches the feathers.) 
Land alive ! I opined I bed my sunshade. 



10 A MODERN MAGDALEN 

Roger— I couldn't understand why you were starting off 
in such high feather. , .^ ^ ^ ^ wk 

Madge (running laughingly to take the duster) — \\ here is 
the sunshade? , ,, , ^ ^, 

Aunt Marthv (testily) — In the umbreller rack, whar the 
duster hedn't ought to've ben. (To Roger, as Madge goes) — 
'Tain't any wonder I'm driv clean outen my sense.s. It's 
Eph Peltei- agin. 

Roger — What's Eph up to now? 

Aunt Marthy (crosslv~> — T'p to some shade tree asleep, I 
reckon. Samniy Green jes' brung word thet the cows air in 
the corn in the bottom-land. 

Roger Tgoing for his hat) — Why don't you shoot hira. 
Aunt^Marthy? Nobody would ever miss him — he's so nearly 
nothing. , ^^ . 

Aunt Marthv (with utter contempt) — >.othin ! lies 
worse than nothin'. He's jes' the little end o' nothin' with 
the pith knocked out. 

Madge appears with the sunshade — a big buff one, with a 
bright green lining. 

Roger (returning slowly and twirling his hat) — It would 
be useless to take a gun. then, if we couldn't get at the pith 
of the matter. 

Madge (midway of the steps) — Whither are you bound, Sir 
Knight? 

Roger (taking the sunshade from Madge) — To the bottom 
land after the cows, fair ma'd. Coming with us? 

jSfadge (fxo'ug to the hammock)— No, thank you. It's a 
good mile down there. 

Aunt Marthy and Roger go off !>. 

Aunt Marthy (calling back) — Don't fergit to pick the 
strawberries fer dinner I 

^ladge (in the hammock, unmindful in her musing) — 
Without love labor is a curse. (Pause.) I suppose that's 
the reason I don't like work. (Pause.) P>ut I'm sure no' 
amount of love would make me like it. (Pause.) Without 
love ambition leads to nothing. Ambition often leads to 
fame. I wonder if all famous. people had to be in love? But 
Miss Magdalen says fame's empty. So ambition leads +o- 
nothing with or without love. (Frowns and sighs.) Well, 
this world's a queer place! There's something wrong some- 
where, that's sure. 

The galloping of horses is heard in the near distance. As 
the sound grows clearer there is a gradual slackening of 
speed, v.'hich comes to a full stop close b}'. 

The roughriders — Dick Speedwell, Texas Harding and 
Ca.ietan Cardenas — are without. They are all in 'United 
States calvary uniform. Dick and Texas dismount. 
Dick (without) — Backin' out. Cadge? 

Cardenas (same) — We've struck the wrong place again, I 
tell you. 

Texas (same) — 'Tain't ef the kid steered us right. 
Dick — Come off thet bone-rack. Cadge, an' give it a rest ! 
(Cardenas dismounts.) 

Madge, greatly excited, shakes out her skirts, and sets 
straight a hairpin or two. 
Texas enters. 

Texas (in a loud voice) — Ef we've barked up the wrong 
tree this time, devil take us 1 — (catching sight cf Madge) — 
Ho-lee, whiskers (backing off precipitately into Dick). 

Dick (who doesn't see Madge) — What ye dancin' the back- 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 11 



step fer, Tex? (Seeing Madge, he snatches off his hat. 
making an awkward bow.) Judas priest! (calling) Van up 
here. Cadge! This is whar you kick the beam! 

Cardenas (approaching and bowing gracefully) — Ah, we 
beat the quarters for a lion and discover— a — dear. This is 
not. then, the residence of Mr. Roger Fairfax? • 

Madge (risen, drawing herself up coolly) — No. You must 
have passed his phi'-e ua the way. Mr. Fairfax is visiting 
here. This is the Stebbins place. 

Cardenas (winking slylv at Dick) — A more attractive 
place than his own. I fancy. Miss (interrogatively) Steb- 
bins. (Madge stiffly bows.) I regret we have no cards. Let 
me i)resent you. Miss Stebbins. Mr. Speedwell and (looking 
around for Texas, who approaches gingerly from behind a 
trep) Mr. Harding. Introduced by (with another graceful 
liow) their comrade. Cardenas, (with assurance) You've 
heard of us. no doubt. 

Madge (brusnuelv) — Xo. If you'll wait I'll go for Mr. 
Fairfax. He's off about a mile, (putting on her-sunbonnet 
and starting away). 

Cardenas — Pardon. It is too far for you to go in the liot 
sun. You can direct us. But first, «aay I trouble you for a 
glass of water? 

Madge ( indifTerentlv) — It's no trouble. The wells .lUst 
ai-ound the house, (going back). 

Cardenas (with a meaning look at Dick) — I follow, (going 
around the house with :Madge). „ ^ , . 

Texas (starting to follow, to Dick) — S'ngle file. Speedy! 

Dick (grabbine him by the arm) — With a mile or so be- 
tween the van and rear, ve moon-eyed jay ! 

Texas (with n good-natured grin of surprise) — The devil! 
So we ain't in it. , , , 

Dick (ruefullv)— Not by a .iugful ! Say. but she s a hum- 
mev ! {(Joes across to the rustic seat followed by Texas.) 

Texas (knowingly) — Old Kodge hain't coolin' his heels 
grubbin' up snails. ^ , ^,„ , 

Dick (sitting)— Not on yer bronch ! An' I II lay ye a fiver 
this trig little stepper's what steered him off the study o 
boay-constrictors. t^ ^ tmi 

Texas (taking the bench)— That cogs the dice. But 111 
throw ye. the boavs hain't through studyin' him. Loleety 
Juarez's mate ain't here dauglin' fer nothin'. . ^ ^ , 

Dick ( reflectively )— An' whar Cadge Cardenas is Leety s 
goin' to be. ^ _ . 

q>xas — Bodge ha'n't never jroin' so far ez to git wrapped 
up in Leety. (grinning). He ain't pinin' fer a death hug. 

Dick ^-loomUv)— Bodge's on to her habits, s^ure. But 
Cadge is smoother in the long run. an' he am't fergittin to 
count the times Bodge's smn'=hed up some o' his games. 

Texas (siehing deeply)— It beats me w4iy Bodge s let im 
go out o' his clutches. ^ ,^ ,^ , .„ 

Dick (interrupting heavily)— Bodge wouldn t never kill 
nothin' ef he could help it. But he's off his reckonin when 
he don't shuffle Cadge off. Say. Tex. ef the yelier-.iack er the 
yeller flag don't git Cadge, damme ef I woulda t gamble he 11 
give Bodge the death squeeze yit. . .,, ^- 

Texas (fiercelv) — Kf he does (rising) you an me 11 try 
the same squeeze on him. (Seeing Madge and Cardenas ap- 
proaching from back)^ — Come out o' the vapors . 

Dick (rising nonchalantly)— We're dry. Cadge. How s the 
well? 



12 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



Cardenas (looking at Madge) — Cool, sparkling, refreshing. 

Madge crosses to the rustic bench, followed by Cardenas. 

Dick (drily, as Cardenas passes him) — Intoxicatin'. 

Cardenas (smiling) — A hit I (Louder) — Say. pards, I don't 
feel equal to that mile. I'll trust you to round up Fairfax 
(taking the rustic seat and smiling at Madge) in the corn- 
field, (laughing). 

Dick (lightly)- — Yep. I reckon we can manage 'im with- 
out the coil, eii, Tex? (bowing to Madge). Directions, Miss 
Stebbins. 

Madge (graciou.sIy) — From the well you'll see the orchard. 
(A short reflective pause.) Go the length of it. Take the 
lane to^ the right, down that to the woods. Follow the 
wagon-track and it'll lead you to the field. 

Dick — Thanks. 

Madge — You'll probably meet Mr. Fairfax. 

Dick (bowing, then as^de to Texas) — We've got to stir 
our stumps lively. The deer hain't onto the boay's tricks. 
(They go off behind the house.) 

Cardenas (with a sinister smile, calling) — Say, boys, ex- 
plain to Fairfax that this time it's a case of the miss being 
better than the mile. ♦(To Madge) — Pardon my little joke, 
but Fairfax will appreciate the pleasantry. So, my friend 
Fairfax has never told you of his adventurous days on the 
plains'? 

Madge (with shining eyes) — No. He rarely ever talks of 
himself. If you hadn't come I should never have known 
him for the hero he is. 

Cardena.s: (complacently, while concealing from Madge a 
wry smile) — I've sketched him faithfully — as his friends 
and comrades know him. We hope to see him a hero of 
world-wide fame before this war with Spain is ended. 

Madge (rapturously) — If all you've told me is known at 
headquarters. I don't wonder it was easy to get him a 
colonel's commission. 

Cardenas (shrugging his shoulders lightly) — The head 
men know Fairfax. 

Madge (damped by a sudden thought) — Maybe he won't 
take it. 

Cardenas — If he should refuse (smiling familiarly at 
Madge) we'll get you to ask him. 

Madge (surprised) — Me! 

Cardenas (with soft indolence) — You must have great in- 
fluence with him. 

INIadge (laughing lightly) — Mercy, no! 

Cardenas (confidently) — You want him to be colonel. 

Madge (emphatically, but absently) — Sure. Then I can 
work you a banner — "The Fairfax Roughriders." Pretty, 
isn't it? 

Cardenas (gallantly) — It will be prettier when your fair 
hands have finished it. You'll come to camp and present it 
in person, won't you? 

Madge (longingly) — Oh, if I only might! 

Cardenas — Why not? 

Madge (discontentedly) — I'm not allowed to go any- 
where. I should never have had a single glimpse of a 
soldier if you hadn't come. 

Cardenas (amused) — What's the matter with Fairfax? 

Madge (poutingly) — Pie won't appear in his regimentals 
here. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 13 



Cardenas (with soothing- certainty) — But you're going up 
to tlie city to see him off. 

Madge (shal^ing her head in deep dejection) — No. (More 
miserably.) And I'd just set my heart on doing that. 

Cardenas (with concern) — Do they Ivnow how badiy you 
want to go? 

Madge (in an abused tone) — That doesn't malie any differ- 
ence. 

Cardenas (apparently in sympathy) — It's a beastly shame 
they're so strict with you. But 

Madge (taking fire) — They've no business tO' be. Some 
day I'll show them ! 

Cardenas (in a righteous tone, while looking down to hide 
a sinister smile) — But really, I can't blame them. 

Madge (mimicking Cardenas) — No, oh, no. Of course not! 
(Scornful laugh.) 

Cardenas (chuckling in secret enjoyment) — ^I suppose 
(leaning back) they don't allow you (languidly watching 
her through half-closed lids) a — a — looking-glass. (Madge 
starts back, regarding him in mute astonishment.) If they 
did you could see for yourself why they guard you so 
closely. 

Madge (gasping with confusion) — You — you — don't 
mean — 

cardenas (leaning gracefully forward with a genial smile) 
— ^But I do mean it. (Again fixing half-closed eyes on her 
face.) And Fairfax (with apparent amusement) a con- 
noisseur in feminine beauty, never once whispered it to you. 
Why (with ardor), you'd take New York by storm! Sancta 
Maria (slapping his knee), I'd like you to try it. (Madge, 
intensely moved, leans unconsciously forward, drawn as a 
bird to a serpent.) Don't you know anyone in the city? 

Madge (with effort) — No. 

Cardenas (assuring a boyish enthusiasm)- — Well, I do. 
I've a cousin there now — Lolita Juarez. Ever heard 
Fairfax speak of her? 

Madge (dreamily) — No. 

Cardenas (with a sardonic smile) — No? I am surprised. 
Well. I'll get her to ask you up. 

Madge (aroused) — But — 

Cardenas (as if vowing to himself) — And we'll see that 
you go. (An indistinct murmur of voices is heard.) Now 
(rising), not a word to anybody yet. Promise! 

Mad<>e (breathlessly) — I promise. 

Cardenas (hurriedly) — I'll write. 

Madge (going toward the house) — No, oh, no! 

Cardenas chuckles softly. 

Roger, Dick and Texas enter at hack. 

Dick (laughing) — Swab yer sporge over thet. old boy! 

Mado-" (to r^rriorifis 09 s^a carelessly swings her bonnet) 
— I told you they'd meet him. 

Roger (cooly. aftPi- a sharp look at Madge, without 
offering his hand) — Howdy, Cardenas ! Still fond of plan- 
ning surprises. 

Cardenas (looking after Madee, wlio slowly goes toward 
the house) — And of carrying them rut. 

Roger — Miss Stebbins ! (Madge turns and stops.) Your 
aunt stopped at a neighbor's. ' She sent word that you 
shouldn't forget to pick the sti-awli'^vries. (Madge goes 
slowly into the house.) You (to ('ptrdenas. whose eyes 
f'^llow Madge) are (quietly and with double meaning) after 
me. 



14 A MODERN MAGDALEN 

Cardenas (with a suave smile) — And your follower is 
rewarded by tinding not only you but another — 

Koger (cooly) — And a rarer gem. 

Cardenas (pointedly, but still suavely) — So rare — that 
she vanishes— s/oK/i/ — when you appear. When did you 
add alchemy to the list of your attainments V 

Roger (cooly) — Can't you remember? I think about 
the time I met you. Your magic puv^'er seems to be on 
the increase, doesn't if? when it brings you to me in 
vour present capacity ? 

Cardenas (still suavely) — As bearer of a colonels com- 
mission. Why nof^ 

Koger (with a short laugh) — When you come to enroll 
yourself under my banner, alchemy must have been at 
work, indeed. 

Cardenas (easily) — Yes. ICs an acknowledged fact that 
love will work wonders, and in love for my country I'm will- 
ing to forget any past differences between us. 

Roger (contemptuously, regarding Cardenas steadily) — 
Kind of vou. Hut why weren't you made colonel instead 
of captain? With your zeal and your intimate knowledge 
of Cuba, you might make a better leader than a follower. 

Cardenas (pleasantly earnest) — No. I can better aid 
my country by securing for her service a leader to whose 
military elticiencv Wesc I'oint can testify, and for whose 
unfailing bravery"^ I can vouch, (with assumed humility). 

Texas (grinning) — That ain't no lie I 

Dick (Vvith a snort of surprise) — Good fer you. Cadge! 
(To Roger.) Don't fergit he's only trumpeter fer yer friends 
and comrades. 

Cardenas (presenting the credentials) — Will you accept 
the commission? (bending his head). 

Roger (slowly, with a steady gaze on Cardenas) — As from 
my friends and comrades, yes. And I heartily thank them 
for the honor shown me. 

Carder.as bows. 

Dick and Texas — Three cheers fer the Fairfax Rough- 
riders I Hip. hip, hurrah ! 

Card-^nas (with a significant smile) — We hope to make 
the name of Fairfax immortal, (moving off). See you in 
camp — 

Madge appears in the doorway, seen by Cardenas only. 
He covertly acknowledges her presence. 

Roger — 'Day after tomorrow, (giving his hands to Dick 
and Texas). 

Cardenas goes off R. with a smile to Madge, who waves 
farewell and disappears. 

Texas — ^It's a dead shot we'll be winners under yon, 
Rodge. 

Dick — And we'll tramp to glory under your lead. Colonel 
Bronchbuster. 

Roger (with tender gravity) — I hope I'll lead you safely 
home. Well, good-by, pards I Sorry you can't stay longer. 
(Th^v all move off R. together.) 

Dick — We don't hanker after leg-bail, but (with military 
stiffness) duty calls — so— (going off) 

They sing without 
From "The Roughriders" :* 



The Roughriders — Music by Arturo Buzzireccia. Words by 
Helena Clendenen. Published by John Church Co. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 15 



We'll hie. hie, hie for the ranks, nor shrink when the bugle 

sounds. 
We'll hie, then hie, hie for the camping-grounds. 
Then — how gladly we shall greet the day when orders come 

to go, 
How proudly we shall march away to meet the waiting 
foe, 

(The curtain begins to fall slowly.) 
And on we'll bear Old Glory high thro' raining shot and 

shell, 
Spurred by one aim — to serve our country well : 
The horses gallop away. 

CURTAIN. 



ACT I. 

Scene II — ^The day following. The sitting-room of the 
farmhouse. 

On the left side, in the immediate foreground, a wide 
fireplace, its mouth filled with ferns growing m a green- 
pa. ..ita box. (jn tne mantelboard, exactly iu the center a 
large glass bell covering a des.gn in wax flowers. On 
each side, primly placed, candies in an antique lustre of 
wrought iron. Over the mantel an engraving in a gilt 
frame hung with cord and tassel. 

Between the fireplace and a door a few feet bevond, an 
old caken settle, which serves also for a wood-box. 

The door, excepting the frame at top. is concealed by 
ugly red canton flannel curtains hanging from a pole. 
Behind them, fastened to the door, is a canvas presenting 
General Washington in his regimentals. 

A few feet beyond this door is another, in use. Between 
the doors a haircloth chair is placed stiffly against the wall. 

In the left corner of the room stands an old clock, its 
face distinctly visible. 

In the back wall, left of center, a large bay-window with 
a bench running the entire length of the curve. From this 
bench it is easy to step onto the terrace on a level with it. 
The windows are curtained in white Swiss. Through the 
windows is a view of treeless yard and a wide sweep of 
sea. 

At right of the bay is a round covered table with a hair- 
cloth ''hair each side of it. all flat against the wall. On 
the table, with olhin' ImkiKs. a small Bible. Over the table 
a large looking<;i;is,s. it's length equaling the width of 
the mantelboard space. In front of the table a tall 
hassock covered with worsted work. 

I« the right v.all, near the corner is a door. Another, 
wide, in the foreground, opens into the hall. 

Between these doors, against the wall, is a large hair- 
cloth sofa v/ith gingham-covered pillows primly placed. 
A tali has-sock covered with worsted woi'k is ' in front 
of it. 

In p;vh of the available wall sDaces is bung with cord 
and tassel a gotnl-sized steel engriM'lng in a gilt frame. 

It is just past sunset, and tlr.> windows are red in 
the afterglow. 

^Magdalen and Madge enter door at L.. Magdalen carry- 
ing a book containing as a bookmark a stiletto with "a 



16 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



beautifully wrought heft which shows in full above the 
book s eage. 

Madge — A'o, Miss MagdaJen, there isn't a single room 
changed. (Magdalen looks critically about.) This is a 
shade better than the parlor, but if it isn't all funereal I 
don t know what you'd call it. 

Magdalen (smiling) — Things do look rather mournful. 
I wish Aunt Marthy wouldn't allow her furniture and 
walls to be so taken up with each other. It's an injury 
to both. 

Madge — Sarah Ann's house is just the same, isn't it? 
Magdalen — Yes. You know I've been there many sum- 
mers, and nothing is ever changed. I've often wondered how 
they manage after cleaning to find the exact place for 
everything. 

Madge (dryly) — Perhaps they chalk the locations. 
Magdalen (laughing) — Thank you. 

Madge — Can you wonder that I dread winter and live 
outdoors all summer'? 

Magdalen — This room isn't so bad, Madge. That win- 
dow-space lightens its misery, and the fireplace helps tone 
up things in winter, doesn't if? 

Madge — If you look straight into the fire and dream. 
Magdalen (disinterestedly) — Poor dear (going to lay 
her book on the mantelboard) ! 

Madge — I used to live in hope that time might work 
changes, but there's no time here for them. 
Roger enters at upper R. door. 

Roger — There shouldn't be any time in here for anything. 
You're losing the beauty of a perfect evening. 

Magdalen — We'll appreciate it the more by contrast, 
Roger. We're just finishing a colorless tour of inspection, 
I don't find a thing changed and I've been away two 
years. 

Roger— I should think you'd appreciate unchangeableness 
as an attractive quality. It's so rare nowadays. 

Magdalen — Unchanging ugliness is unpardonable. There 
isn't a thing here to indicate the beautiful in Aunt Marthy's 
nature. On every side . dullness and severity — (attracted 
by the red curtains) — no! can it be true, or do I dream 
that that grim front has lost its wooden eye? 

Madge — By accident. No, those curtains are no dream. 
Roger — And it took a hundred years to effect this 
change. Made, too, through the move of a dead member. 
After a century of suspense Washington got on the tender- 
hooks and came down hard for a change. He dislocated his 
frame, and (drawing aside the curtains) he's stretched 
out here for repairs. 

Magdalen — How irreverent — in a colonel, too ! 
Roger — That's so (saluting) ! Beg your pardon. Gen- 
eral ! 

Madge (in an amused tone) — Great idea of Aunt Marthy's 
stretching the canvas in here. 

Magdalen — Yes. A real artistic effect might be had out 
of it." 

Roger (drawing the curtain to) — Oh, well ! Any sort of 
curtain may lend both dignity and mystery to an exhibi- 
tion. 

Sarah Ann (without) — Maggie! 

Madge draws in her breath, and her eyes snap with 
fury. 

Roger laughs. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN - 17 



Sarah Ann (with closer shrillness) — Maggie ! I shan't 
call ye agin ! 

Madge — (ilad to hear it. 

Magdalen (smoothly, as she goes toward the sofa) — You 
might at least answer. Madge. 

Madge — l!ut i won't. It's bad enough to have Maggie 
hurled at you, let alone being shrieked at all over the 
house in that vulgar fashion. 

Roger — 'Tis sort of rough on you. But don't you think 
if you went quietly and ignored the attempts to enrage 
you. you'd be the gainer? 

Madge (sullenly, as she goes to the window) — You can't 
ignore a — a — vixen. 

Roger (to Magdalen, as he goes to the table and picks 
up a book at random) — I've tried to convince Madge that 
she loses much (with a dry smile) in losing her temper 
(humorously regarding the "apparently inattentive figure), 
and that the only way to balk Sarah Ann is through self- 
control. 

Madge (pointedly, without turning) — People without tem- 
pers don't know anything about self-control. 

Roger (good humoredly) — Truly. So it takes a woman 
to understand it. 

Magdalen (somewhat absently, a glance of disdain fixed 
upon Madge) — By the way. Roger — 

Madge (interrupting with a laugh) — Oh. do come, look 
at Aunt Marthy. She does look so funny. (Magdalen frowns, 
and an exclamation of annoyance' escapes her.) Yes (nod- 
ding) I'm coming. (On her way to door at L.) Colonel 
Fairfax, are you going to church with Aunt Marthy to- 
night? 

Roger — I am. 

Mudge (at the door) — Then I'll go ahead to tell them 
if the preacher isn't there they can call on you. (Goes 
out.) 

Magdalen (with disgust) — Aunt Marthy has spoiled her 
completely. She's becoming too insolent to tolerate. 

Roger (quietly) — Slie didn't intend insolence. You do 
not understand her. (Magdalen's lip curls.) I think your 
presence here will do her good, (laying respectful hands oa 
one of the chairs near the table and addressing the wall). 
^Yith your permission, for just five minutes, (bringing tlie 
chair down). 

Magdalen (laughing) — Maybe the chair won't stand for 
the separation. 

Roger — Isn't it quite stable? (sitting cautiously, after a 
short test of its strength). I'm not looking for any hair- 
breadth escapes (sitting comfortably). All right. To 
return to Madge. (Magdalen's face darkens.) She will 
profit by your companionship. You'll be here all siim- 
me'r. won't you? 

Masfdalen (siivm-ised) — Why, no! I wrote you — Oh! 
my last letter didn't reach you. I gave up traveling for 
the same reason you did — in the hope of being of some 
use to my country. I shall join the Red Cross workers. 

Roger (with friendly admiration) — That's like you, Mag- 
dalen. It's stuDid of me not to have guessed it, when I 
know so well what your work has been for the last fifteen 
years. Will you go to Cuba? 

Magdalen — I shall be in Cuba perhaps as soon as you 
will. 

Roger — So there's a possibility of our meeting there. 
I'm glad we needn't say farewell, then. I confess I dread 



18 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



the parting with Aunt Marthy, dear soul ! — and with Madge 
(with a retrospective smile) But Madge doesn't realize the 
full meaning of the war. She looks at its poetic side 
only. 

Magdalen (coldly)— She's old enough to begin to take a 
hold on realities. 

Roger — A knowledge of the practical isn't gaged by any 
set number of years, is it V Besides, who ever wants the 
years to bring a time when reality refuses to show up a 
poetic side? Don't you still enjoy revelling in a maze 
of myth and fancy? 

Magdalen (with a slightly constrained smile) — I'm not 
too Old, am I ? 

Roaer (laughingly) — I score my point. If you were, I 
shouldn't dare confess I've great faith in the mystical. 
Here (taking a scarf-pin from beneath the lapel of his coat) 
is a proof of it. Will you handle it reverently? (handing it 
to lier. 

Magdalen (laughing) — I'll try to. (examining it). How 
bizarre it is I 

Roger — Yes. I got it in the Orient, along with an 
affidavit that it belonged to — to — (with mock seriousness) 
— Mohammed. He wore it, I believe, to — to — fasten his — 
chest-protector. The stone possesses superhuman power. 
If the owner ever goes knowingly into danger and loans 
it — the stone, not the danger — to a friend going the same 
way — it — the stone — will insure safety to both. (Mag- 
dalen looks up with a questioning smile. Yes : I loan 
it to you. 

Magdalen (radiant) — What an honor! (Roger laughs.) 
But, if I should lose it I 

Roger (in a sepulchral tone) — Then we are in- the find- 
er's power, be he friend or foe. 

Magdalen (affecting a shudder) — I begin to shrink from 
the responsibility. 1 wish I might give you something to 
insure i/our safcti/, anyway. Rut I've nothing, (rising with 
a sudden thought). I'm not so sure, (going to the book left 
on the mantelboard, and taking out the dagger). Here 
— (crossing to meet Roger) — better than your pin, and far 
more suited to the purpose, this, (handing it to him). I'm 
sorry it isn't charmed, but it's a dear treasure. I got it on 
the Rialto of Shylock. who was back on a, vacation. 

Roger — That ought to insure me a pound of flesh, any- 
way. 

Magdalen — Let us hope army service won't put you in the 
need of it. I shall not see you tomorrow (moving away), 
so it's an revoir in Cuba. 

Roger (going to open the door at L.) — I hope so, Then 
keep a brave heart, my daughter, for we part under the 
protection of Mohammed. 

Madge appears on the terrace at the open window as 
Roger bends over Magdalen's hand, on which he presses 
a slightly lingering kiss. 

Magdalen leans toward Roger in an attitude full of de- 
votion, struggling against repression. 

Madge's expression reveals the awakening of a passion 
surprised. She disappears as the door closes behind Mag- 
dalen, 

x\unt Marthy enters the upper R. door, advancing to 
the table. She has been a witness of the parting. 

Aunt Marthy (as Roger turns from the door) — I thought 
Madge was in here. 

Roger — No ; do you want her ? 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 19 

Aunt Marthy — Mebbe you can help me. (stopping at the 
chair removed by Roger, he laughingly hastens to replace 
Wc. 1 V'^f"*^ ^^ (seacing herself at L. of table) fer the 
iJible. bairey Ann's ben a-disputin" with me. 1 want to 
Imd the place whar the "wages of sin'" — (the Bible in her 
hands) — 

Roger (taking the book from her)— You can't find any 
such place here, Aunt Marthy. You're in a province gov- 
erned by peace and— love. Lefs talk about that 

Aunt Marthy (sighing in pleased anticipation) — Well, 
Roger, I see it a-comin' (Roger is surprised), an' yit I'm 
kmd a-took back, fer I thought ez mebbe goin' to war 
would keep ye from namin' it to 'er. 

Roger — I haven't spoken to her. 

Aunt Marthy — Ye hain't ! 

Roger — No ; for I am not sure she loves me. If she does 
she isn t yet aware of it. (smiling). 

Aunt Marthy (dryly)— She's hed severeal years to find it 
out in. 

Roger (a trifle absently) — I've written her 

Aunt Marthy (amazed)— Written : Land alive! Ef you've 
turned thet big a coward, how 're ye ever goin' to face the 

Roger— The letter is for you to keep (running the dagger 
down the open Bible), to be given to her only in the evfnt 
?vniT/ .'^''T^'- IV ''VI T^^P'«^^^ ^^'hy my entii-e propeity s 
vvilled to her. Should I return (closing the book with the 
dagger m it) no pen shall tell her the jovous message sS 
long treasured in my heart, (laying the book on the table) 
i^unt Marthy do y<,u think there's any hope for mev ^ 
r^Arl J/«'-tJiy— She's the only one thet cL set ve right 
on thet, Roger, boy. But she ought to favor ye. She kuovvs 
matrl-ei-'ye ""^ ^'' ^^^ ^^"' "'^"'^ "^^^^ tlie proper 

Roger (gratefully)—.! was sure of you, Aunt Marthv 
quite sure, (laying his hand on hers lying on the table I 
wish I were as sure of her (Aunt Marthy smiles) and she 
Madge? '"'^ ^^ *''''^^^' ^^ ''"'■ ^^" ^^^^'t' dear'wfnsotol 

Aunt Marthy (starting)— Eh ? 

Roger (Slightly dazed) — Well'? 
/T>^"°*^ Marthy (gasping)— Madge ! Madge Stebblns 
(Roger bows, still bewildered) Roger! Roger Fafrfax' 
an ffd fdoT! ^ military salute). There's no fool like 

Roger (politely)— I'm sorry if you were 

^Zr~Z?';^'>"l hoTe lo'" '""' '""^^'^ """' "P '"- 
Aunt Marthy— Roger Fairfax! 
Roger (saluting) — Here! 
^^Aunt Marthy— You dunno an' I dunno who her parents 

Roger — Where ignorance Is bliss — 

Aunt Marthy— There ain't no fool bigger'n a man! 

Anl.TTr^'^^i ^ ™'^"^^ ,^"^ y^" ^''»'<^ there was no fool— 
h;A ^ Marthy— Bigger'n you. When there's women of 
birth, women of eddication. women of yer own age womea 
(pausing for want of breath)— *= ' ^^^^^ 

Roger (smiling)— I want but one. 

Aunt Marthy (sharply)— They're all in one right under 
yer nose— an' you go an' want Madge. I calkilated wom 
was smart 'nuflf to remember thet beauty's only skin deep 



20 A MODERN MAODALEN 



But ye hain't. Ye're like all the rest o' yer kind — beauty 
first, an' beauty last, an' ye never look further ef beauty'll 
hev ye. (chokingly). Thet wouldn't be so bad — but — Madge 
— Madge — 'Ifs 'uuff to make yer parents turn in their 
graves ! 

Roger (gravely) — Twenty years my own master — 

Aunt Marthy (sharply) — Ought to've made ye a better 
ane. (breaking down). Roger! No! No! It mustn't be. 
(burying her face in her hands). I can"t hev it so! 

The sound of churchbells comes from a distance. 

Roger (uneasily) — Maybe a little whjle in church will 
put a new light on the matter. P>eside.s — (Madge enters 
L. door, leaving it open). Come! (bending kindly toward 
her) Do not let me go from you with a heart so heavy. 

Madge (icily)- — If you're going to church, you'd better 
be starting. 

Aunt Marthy (rising and hastily drying her eyes) — Ef 
you hain't a-goln' you'd better go up an* stay with Mag- 
dalen an' learn to pattern after her. (goes out L. door). 

Roger — Shall I see you when I come from church V 

Madge (coldly indifferent) — I'm sure I can't say. 

Roger — You'll be up in the morning to see me off? 

Madge (colder, if possible) — If I'm not too sleepy. You'd 
better say good-by now. 

Rosier (taking the extended hand) — You'll write me? 

Madge — Most likely, (not looking at him). Good-by and 
good luck to you. 

Roger (deeply pained) — I thank you for your good wishes. 
I (with quiet emphasis) shall remember them often. Good- 
by ! (Madge is oblivious of the love and longing in his 
eyes as iie turns sadly away. lie goes off lower R. door.) 

Madge (as the door closes, holding her hand disdainfully 
in front of her) — You didn't get kissed! Ifs too bad you 
couldn't have helped me begin to pattern after Magdalen. 
She (going to the sofa and sitting) loves him — Roger. I 
can't "pattern after her (chokingly). She's so calm, so 
cool — and that's what he likes, (despondently). Love knows 
no 'distrust, no jealousy, no fear. Magdalen's too cold to 
knew, so she loves him. lie understands her. He loves 
her. He could never understand how I — I — hate — hate — 
her. (burying her face in the pillows and sobbing). 

€ardenas appears at the open window, comes through 
and goes softly to the sofa. 

Oardenas (bending over Madge)— Senorita mia ! 

Madge (starting up) — You! 

Cardenas — Forgive me ! Your sobbing brought mp through 
the window. I cannot tell you how great is my distress to 
find you in tears. • 

Madge (with dignity) — My tears of anger need'nt dis- 
tress you. 

Cardenas (sitting beside her and laying his hat on the 
hassock) — Ah ! but they do. And they till my heart with 
fierce anger against the cause, (smiling sarcastically). Not 
Fairfax, I hope. (Madge does not turn.) He was being 
taken to task for something as he left the house with a 
lady— your mother? 

Madge — My mother is — I have neither father nor mother. 
I live with my aunt. It was she whom you saw with Mr. 
— Colonel Fairfax. 

Cardenas — She will return soon? 

Madge — Not very. She's gone to church. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 21 

Cardenas (with a satisfied smile) — How disappointing! 

Madge (turning quiclily) — You wish to see her! 

Cardenas — It seems so. I bring a letter (searching for 
it) addressed to Mrs. Stebbins — j'our mother, 1 supposed. 
It is from my cousin — Lolita Juarez — (puiling out several 
letters) — of whom I spoke yesterday. 1 lold her of you 
when I got back to New York, ana the letter is the 
result. Ah ! (finding it) as ic is tva open one, you may as 
well read it. 

Cardenas watches her furtively as she reads. 

Madge (with delight) — Oh! do you know what she asks? 

Cardenas (nodding pleasantly) — That your aunt will let 
you vis.t her soon. 

Madge (excitedly) — Now, right away I 

Cardenas (with a surprised air) — Xo ! 

Madge — Listen! (looking for the place). Where is it? 
(reading) "If, my dear madam, you will favor me in this 
matter, will you let your daughter come up tomorrow with 
Colonel Fairfax — a very esteemed friend of mine, who 
will recommend me to you." (looking up). Tomorrow 

Cardenas — That s tine ! Lita wants to give you the 
chance of seeing a few more soldiers. 

Madge (her ti\(x' suudei.ly cluudtd) — Oh! I wish she'd 
have written ! 1 know 1 ca^it go ! 

Cardenas (soothingly) — With Fairfax to plead for vou, 
I'm sure your aunt won't refuse. 

Madge (frowningly) — He'll not plead for me. 

Cardenas (raising his eyebrows) — Xot so! 

Madge (refiecting darkly) — And even if he did, it would 
do no good. 

Cardenas (rising and looking at his watch) — Well, it's 
too bad all round. Lita will be as much disappointed as 
I am. 

Madge (slowly and without lifting her head) — You must 
go now ? 

Cardenas — If I catch the next boat. Believe me, my eyes 
and my heart are both begging me to stay — now more than 
ever since I cannot look forward to seeing you tomorrow. 

Madge (her attitude unchanged) — You couldn't come 
again tomorrow ? 

Cardenas (bending eagerly forward) — Ah, senoi-ita, vou 
wish it! (drawing himself up reluctantly, but decisively). 
But no ! my heart cannot lead me. I go to camp tomor- 
row, (with a sudden thought). Y^ou are not thinking — 
(pause) — 

Madge (with slow decision) — That if you could come, I'd 
let you take me to your cousin. 

Cardenas (regretfully) — Ah! (pausing) If (uncertainty) 
I — wired Lita to be at the pier with a carriage, why couldn't 
you go tonight? 

Madge (uncertainly, with a quick glance upward) — I 
don't see why I couldn't. I've some money of my own. 
The boat leaves? 

Cardenas — There's one at 8 :30. If you have decided 
to go — 

Madge (firmly) — I've decided (rising and flinging the 
letter on the sofa). I'm going. It won't take me long tO' 
get ready. But how will you amuse yourself? 

Cardenas (with a significant smile) — By thinking of you. 

Madge (ignoring the reply) — The room is bare of enter- 
tainment. But there's one thing that may interest you — a 
good painting of Washington. It was given by the artist 



22 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



to my aunt" s grandfather. I think you will find it worth 
inspection (going off R.). It's behind those curtains. I 
of Mexico, (picking up the letter). This will be just as 
R. door). 

Cardenas (throwing himself back on the sofa with huge 
enjoyment) — Easier than I thought. You can't have all 
the beauties, Fairfax. Tlais goes to even up that little 
affair across the border. And wlien you find your snow- 
white bird is flown (with a laugla of keen relish), you'll 
be hit some harder than I was when you lost me the pearl 
of Mexico, (picking up the letter). This will be just as 
comfortable (putting it in his pocket) there, (looking con- 
temptuously around). Bare I Iluh ! 'Twould look better 
entirely so.' Washington must be a masterpiece, (rising and 
going toward the curtains). I'll leave you (mimicking 
Madge) in good company with — the General. 

As the curtains are flung contemptuously aside, Roger 
is revealed. 

Cardenas (falling back with a grasp) — Fairfax! 

Roger (calmly stepping forth) — Not general yet, only 
the colonel. A veiy lifelike portrait, no '.■' (cooly surveying 
him). It is sort of rough on you (going toward the table 
and out of range of the lookingglass) to expect to look on 
a man so great and see — 

Cardenas (in a position so his image is fully reflected in 
the glass. looking up) — A coward. 

Roger — Even a room so bare affords you (with a bow 
and a wave toward the glass) a mirror. 

Cai-denas (as a dagger flashes from hs sleeve into his 
har'd) — Which shall never a^ain rpflect your face! 

Roger (cooly, and as if at random picking up the Bible 
from rlie table) — No? 

Cardenas — No. This time, my friend. Cardenas comes 
off victor, (dandling the instrument). Better drop your 
book. I remember you flaht well free-handed, amigo Inio. 

RogPF (calmly running his thumb across the leaf-edges) — 
The Bible's a pretty good book to have along with you 
in face of (a slight pause) danger. 

Cardenas (with an ugly leer) — Of death. I regret that 
the odds are so mucli on my side. 

Roger (calmly) — The odds on your's may go to the devil, 
when the Lord's on my side. 

Cardenas (with insolent admii-ation) — T never admired 
you so much before, Rodgie. I'll grant you a momer<: to 
find a line or two suitable for the' situation, (falling back 
a little, folding his arms, and holding against his sleeve 
the dagger which he regards caressingly). 

Roger (fixing a steady glance on his adversary) — If you 
wore more familiar with the Bible, you might some time be 
able to profit by its good goints. I think I can open directlv 
to a shining example. The place is marked by (the heft 
firrn'^' in his hand, and dropping the book) a dagger. On 
gaurd ! 

Cardenas rushes on Roger. They fight desperately. 
Roeer, however, rather parrying tlie thrusts than giving 
anv. 

Roger, finally gaining advantage, dexterously wounds 
Cardenas in the fighting hand, hurling the dagger to the 
floor. 

Tavdenps falls in a cowardly attitude. 

Roger (^ooly picking up the fallen dagger and placing 
it in his hand beside his own) — Huh! Shylock, you at^e 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 23 



great in winning interest. Double the principal in less 
than an hour (looking down at Cardenas, who has raised 
himself on one hand). Can't you get up now, Cardenas? 
Your position isn't graceful, and Miss Stebbins might come 
in any moment (as he goes to lay the daggers on the 
mante'lboard, Cardenas rises and staggers into a chair near 
the table). It's too bad she aroused your memory of the 
pretty Mexican to make you forget your love for your 
country and its need of my services. It's my belief you 
can't deprive it of them, Cardenas. It's to my belief, too, 
you owe your life. I'd have got rid of you long ago, you 
know, if I hadn't looked on you as a helpless instrument 
of Fate. This is the reason, too, I've no fear of you. If 
it's decreed that I'm to meet my death through you, what's 
the use of being afraid'? And if it isn't so decreed, there's 
no need of fear. From past experiences with you, I've great 
faith that it isn't so decreed, so don't try any further to 
''make the name of Fadrfuiv immortal." It will save you 
trouble. (On his way to the sofa.) Devote your energies 
to your country, (stopping). You see Fate is in love with 
me. I met one of my tenants who told me the same- — ■ 
ahem I — soldier who was looking for me yesterday had 
returned today. So (again starting for the sofa) I came 
back expressly to see you. (stopping again and pointing to 
the curtained doorway). That door leads into my apart- 
ments, (going to the hassock for Cardenas's hat). Wash- 
ington always was a genius at holding the key to the situa- 
tion. He had it as usual. I usad it to cp? i i o 'h' 
shortest way to the scene of action (c'oi-g toward Ca^-- 
denas. and handing over the hat). The shortest way out 
for you is that, (pointing to the window). 

Cardenas (fully recovered, with an ugly laugh) — And 
leads to jailing for an attempt on your life. 

Koger-^I've never before troubled myself to put you out 
of business, have I ? Now. when my country calls for what 
defense I can give, I can't afford to stay at home to 
answer for defending myself. As I told you before, I've 
no fear of you. Now. go ! 

-Cardenas (going out with insolent ease) — Adios ! (with a 
mocking bow, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his hat raised 
high). . 

Roger — Thanks. When I do go that way, it's good-by 
to you forever. (Cardenas disappears.) I wonder — 
(pausing in silent I'eflection, as he walks to the window 
recess, and looks out into the twilight) — 

Madge enters lower R. door. She is in traveling attire, 
hat in hand. 

Madge (nervously, closing the door) — Was I very long? 

.Roger (turning quietly) — Quite long enough. 

'Madge-^You ! 

Roger— Do I make a poor substitute for Cardenas? 

Madge (angrily) — "^Tiere is he? And why are you here? 

Roger — Well — I'm here, because — he has been, and he — 
isn't here — because I am. Where he is isn't a "question 
of importance so long as you aren't traveling the same 
road. 

Madge (flaring up) — If it's a road I wish to travel, what 
right have you to interfere? 

Roger — The right of knowledge to prevail against ignor- 
ance, if nothing more. 

Madge (fur-iously, going toward the table) — I'm not so 



24 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



learned as you, of course, but I'm old enough to know my 
own mind, (slamming down her hat). 

Roger (quietly) — It's often quite as desirable to know 
something of other minds. I happen to understand the lan- 
guage of a mind like Cardenas's. It's foreign to you. so 1 
came back to offer myself as interpreter. From appearances 
Cardenas has asked you to go some place with him. 

Madge (coming down, with a sarcastic laugh) — You're 
mistaken. His cousin did the asking, (defiantly). His 
cousin. Miss Juarez. 

Roger — Ah, I see ! But the invitation came through Car- 
denas. The translation of it into literal English is : Will 
you accompany me down to — well — not down — to Jackson- 
ville. 

Madge (bewildered) — Jacksonville! (Going to the sofa.) 
She wrote from New York. (On her knees, sesft'ching under 
the pillows and beneath the sofa.) I left the letter here. 

Roger (with a wry face) — Cardenas perhaps remembered 
that I'm familiar with his handwriting. (Madge looks up, 
her face revealing the dawn of truth.) Miss Juarez has 
hardly had time to get to New York. She honored me yes- 
terday with a greeting from Jacksonville. (Seeing the 
truth in its full horror. Madge crouches against the sofa, 
covering her face.) Don't Madge, don't take it so to heart! 
I understand it all, and yon know it is safe with me. 

Madge, staggering to her feet, sways forward, Roger catch- 
ing her. 

Madge (hoarsely, as she pushes him away with all her 
strength) — Don't touch me ! I — you — you hate me ! 

Roger (deeply pained) — Hate you ! ^Yhen I came back to 
protect you! (Madge laughs hysterically.) Hate you! 
When I am thanking God that I came in time ! 

Madge (covering her eyes in agony) — Ah, God! — (with a 
sneering laugh). 

Roger (his hand tenderly caressing the bowed head) — 
When I am thanking God that I alone know. 

Madge (wrenching herself away from him) — And because 
you know (her face set) to my dying day I shall hate you ! 

CURTAIN. 



Act II. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 27 



ACT II. 

In the mountains of Cuba, Early July. 

Scene I — On the Juarez plantation. The court of a mag- 
niticent old house. Moorish in architecture. 

Around the pillars of the arcade and far up on the walls 
chnibins roses run rampant. Beneath the arcade the walk 
IS tiaaged with stone, the greensward extending but a foot 
or two from the pillars, when the flagging begins again, ex- 
tending over the entire court. 

In the central background is a fountain with water play- 
ing over the sculptured centerpiece. Around the fountain is 
a stone bench. It is lower than the coping, which forms a 
back for the seat. 

Near the fountain's edge to the left is a movable flag 
covering a dung-eon. 

In the corners of the court and at right and left in the 
foreground — all within the arcade— are quaint benches of 
stone. 

Near the seat at the left, in the foreground, iust at the 
edge of the arcade, is a pretty lacquered table and a house 
chair. On the table is a tray with glasses and a carafe of 
wine. 

On the seat are a mandolin and a guitar, and over one 
end of It a silk shawl trails to the floor. 

In each of the three walls beneath the vivf-ade is a door 
between two narrow windows screened with ornamental 
grating. 

In each wall of the upper story is a window, the iron 
grating of which is in the form of an oriole. 

It is twilight. 

Cardenas enters R. door. He is in regimental dress. After 
a sweeping glance about he looks up to the window in the 
background. 

/T^^ilVt^^"?.^ (falling)— Lita ! (After a short pause)— Lita ! 
(1 eltmg the closed blinds vvith a rose which he has unfeel- 
ingly wrenched from a vine.) 

The windows are drawn slowly open. 

Lolita appears, kneeling on the window bench. She is in 
picturesque evening costume, not lacking mantilla and fan 

Lolita (smiling languidly down) — Present, capitan ! 

Cardenas (gustily, after an appreciative glance) — Hola ' 
Hurry down and let's have a look at you. 

Loliti\ (her languor untempered) — I hasten, sen6r capitan. 
(She slowly disappears, and the windows are as slowly 
pushed to.) 

Cardenas (after opening C. door and peering a few seconds 
up and down the passageway) — Hola, there, boy.' Has 
Doctor Otero been here? 

Boyish Voice — No. senor. 



28 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



Cardenas — Conduct him here when he comes. 

Boyish Voice — Yes, senor. 

Cardenas (going toward fountain)— So, , the good (sneer- 
ingly> doctor's not here yet. (Ruminating, his foot on 
the bench, his back to L. door.) Well, Diego Otero, I'm 
beginning to distrust you. (shaking his head convincingly). 
I must use you to-night, but this mission fulfilled will, I'm 
pretty sure, end (with a sardonic grin) your life mission. 
If you're found dead (with fiendish triumph), but you 
won't be found dead. The mountains and our little secret 
cavern will never tell what they hold, (chuckling). The Lord 
is now decidedly on my side. Colonel Roger. Else why did 
he station a Spanish camp so close to our hidden cave? 
And why did he have an underground passage connect that 
cave with the old wine-cellars here? (Lolita noiselessly 
enters the L. door and slides into a graceful positioni on 
the stone bench near.) I'll bet (shaking with suppressed 

laugliter) if 1 (l.ita sweeps her fingers lightly over the 

guitar strings). 

Lolita (with smiling slowness) — Not another chijl, Tano? 

Cardenas (dofling h s hat, after a short pause indicative 
of surprise)- — Only slight. But I don't want another. That's 
why I'm here after Otero. But (gallantly, after a critical 
survey of Lolita) I hardly think I'll need him after seeing 
you. You'd send the blood coursing through the veins of a 
mummy. 

Lolita (laughing softly) — My costume pleases you? 

Cardenas (approaching)— Some, since I'd begun to think 
I'd never again see you in anything but those devilish Red 
Cross gowns. Say, if your poor, sick soldiers could see you 
now they'd think — — 

Lolita (demurely, toying with her fan) — Would they? 

Cardenas — No, by gad ! they wouldn't. They'd lose their 
brains. 

Lolita (watching him through half-veiled eyes) — I re.1oice 
in your safety. 

Cardenas — Y'es, custom's hardened me. (reflectively). I 
think, Lita mia, you'd best keep out of Fairfax's sight when 
gowned a la Red Cross. 

Lolita (amused) — You don't rate my natural attractions 
very high. 

Cardenas — ^If others have natural attractions as fair, (sit- 
ting in the chair). 

Lolita (somewhat reflectively) — I like competition. 

Cardenas (with a retrospective smile) — If you could see 
your rival ! Your running 

Lolita (nonchalantly) — Wouldn't be very exciting- if I 
should start handicapped. 

Cardenas^ — Don't be too certain. Her style of beauty 

Lolita (with curling lip) — ^Isn't much. 

Cardenas (surprised) — Y^ou've seen her? 

Lolita — Why not? 

Cardenas — Where ? • 

Lolita — Where did you see Iier? 

Cardenas (rising, with assumed indifference) — In the 
States. 

Lolita — In the States only? (Cardenas nods.) Well. I 
go you several better. I saw her in Tampa, introduced my- 
self in Santiago (Cardenas with difiiculty suppresses his 
astonishment) and have often (yawning behind her fan) 
talked with her — here. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 29 



Cardenas (at C. his eyes glittering) — Here! Impossible I 
(Aside) — Madge Stebbins here I 

Lolita (nonchalantly) — The Red Cross League may make 
more than one thing possible, and a woman so much in love 
with Roger Fairfax as she is wouldn't lose any time in em- 
bracing — the possibilities. 

Cardenas — It can't be the same. (Lita lifts her eyebrows.) 
Why haven't I seen her? 

Lolita — She's on the sick list. 

Cardenas — Her name V 

Lolita (with rriumphant enjoyment) — You never told me. 
And I never asked. She's No. 17 of the hospital corps. To 
me her only mark of distinction is that odd pin of Roger's. 

Cardenas (somewhat absently) — A strong point in her 
favor. 

Lolita (coolly) — It might be used to scratch her ofif the 
list. 

Cardenas (roused from reflection) — Well, my good wishes 
go with you. Ihit I fear you'll never become Mts. Roger 
Fairfax, even though you do seem to be making a good run- 
ning in your pi-esent role of Lady Bountiful. (Creatly 
amused.) How much longer do you think your wine-cellar 
and larder will stand the strain? 

Lolita (calmly) — They'll answer to my demands as long 
as there's gold to make them speak. 

(.^ardenas (grinning) — I ran across Speedy out here tend- 
ing to the loading of a couple of mules. Aie the supplies 
intended for distribution in your hospital camp here, for 
the camp down the mountain, or for the S'pecial tent of 
Colonel l-'airfax? By the way (with open curiosity), has 
he ever come up to thank you in person ? 

Lolita looks ahead, eyes and lips touched with a dreamy 
smile. 

Otero enters C. door, closing it behind him. 

Lolita (turning with languorous grace) — .Just in time. 
Doctor. My cousin is burning up with (pause) fever (ris- 
ing), and lias just had a chill. (To Cardenas,, as she goes 
off L.) — Come again to-morrow, Tano. I hope you may have 
entirely recovered. (To Otero) — I leave him to your tender 
mercies. Doctor. 

Cardenas — One moment, Lita ! Let no one but a messen- 
ger be admitted to the court. 

Lolita— Until? 

Cardenas — lentil I say it is free. 

Lolita (laughing and curtesyin^^) — Yes, my lord! 

Cardenas (going to the bench) — I'm out of medicine, 
Otero. 

Lolita goes out L., closing the door. 

Otero (following Cardenas, h's fa-ce dark) — So am I — en- 
tirely out of the gold cure. (Cardenas's eyes alone betray 
dista.'^te for the tui-n thp conv<M-s'''- in has taken.) I'm here 
to tell you I'm getting tired of this 

Cardenas (interrupting with easy evasion) — You 7iave had 
a long siege, Diego mio. Three months up here, isn't it, with- 
out a glimpse of civilization? But (smiling) I should think 
your d'ouble role would have helped vary tne monotony. 

Otero (grimly) — No. 

Cardenas (laughing) — The part of steward to Senorita 
Juarez isn't so easy as you thought. 

Otero — No. She's brought me to account for the smallest 



30 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



detail. One wouldn't expect to find so much business 
in a woman's head. 

Cardenas (somewhat contemptuously) — Women do some- 
times inherit a man's capacities. Lita is her father's 
daughter. I fancied, Otero (in a lower tone), you'd enjoy 
better playing the good little doctor to her poor, sick insur- 
gents, (chuckling). 

Otero (darkly) — Cursed dogs of rebels! Yes (with a 
sardonic smile), I helped ten shuffle off this mortal coil yes- 
terday. 

Cardenas (affecting a sigh) — Well, you saved their bodies 
from being riddled by Spanish bullets. 

Otero — Better. I've saved Spain considerable ammuni- 
tion, (gloomily). If she never needed it before, she'll need 
it now, since these damned Americans have swaggered into 
the fray. My friend. I fear the game goes against us. 

Cardenas (with a sarcastic smile) — You're easily fright- 
ened, little Doctor, Don't lose your wits because a jackass 
brays. Besid'^s the game isn't worth the ammunition if the 
tricks are all ours. 

Otero (sitting) — These American devils have spoiled one 
of our surest leads. Here they are quartered not a mile 
away on your estates, forcing the Spaniards back from the 
hills and giving the rebels the chance of turning your 
cousin's plantation into a real stronghold for the insur- 
gents. It's a trap no longer. Besides, the coming of the 
American ti'oops has brought your cousin. That loses us 
an important trick. She trumps with the Red Cross, and 
it's the devil's own. Its doctors and nurses are here, there, 
everywhere. I haven't had a single chance to try my medi- 
. cal skill on an American. 

Cardenas (with a reflective smile) — Lita has rather spoiled 
your rushing business in crossbones and skulls. 

Otero — She commands the situation. 

Cardenas (chuckling) — In our favor. Can't you see how 
completely we are protected by her loyalty to the Cuban 
cause ? 

Otero (still darkly) — If the blind holds. But (with a 
sinister smile) this has nothing to do with 

Cardenas (interrupting quickly)^ — With the business in 
hand. You are right. I sent for ycu to tell you that I got 
wind of a new order to-day. The time of our advance on 
the Spanish is changed. 

Otero— Why ? 

Cardenas — To wait for re-enforcements. The Eighth is on 
the v.^ay, how close I don't know. Now. word must be 
got into the Spanish camp to-night that tliey must attack 
us to-morrow : that their approach must be made on our 
north flank : that they must retreat, and that the retreat 

Otero (with satisfaction) — Ah! 

Cardenas — Must begin near the mouth of the gorge. 

Otero (with a long-drawn breath) — Good! But can the 
American dupes all be trapped 

Cardenas (interrupting somewhat impatiently) — Before ar- 
rival of aid? That's the plan. The Eighth wMll take up 
camp a m.ile south of here. The Fairfax Roughriders, re- 
member, will be pushing the retreat a mile north. 

Otero — Very good. I take the word to-night, and will be 
met at the end of the underground passage as usual (smooth- 
ly) by a Spaniard whose hands are empty of the gold prom- 
ised. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 31 



Cardenas — rart of the gold will be handed you. 

Otero — Only part. 

Cardenas (with a shrug) — The rest after the battle to- 
morrow. 

Otero' (with a deprecating wave of the hand) — Still to- 
morrow, (smoothly). Did you acquire the habit of trust in 
the United States? 

Cardenas (soothingly) — We need'nt push the matter. We 
hold the winning cards. 

Otero (repeating) — We hold the winning cards, (rising 
and moving off toward B..). Well, you don't play your hand 
well in this deal, amigo mio. (at the door). I think I'll see 
what I can do with a lone hand or two. (goes off R., closing 
the door after him). 

Cardenas (between his teeth) — You'll never find out more 
than you've stumbled on to. To-night 

Maidservant (without, after knocking) — Senor Ca 

Cardenas — -Well I Come in I 

Maidservant (entering) — A messenger 

Cardenas (sharply) — Let him in! (Servant goes.) 

Tonio. a native darky of about twelve years, enters, going 
directly to Cardenas, whose face is indistinct in the fast- 
gathering darkness. 

Cardenas (irritably) — In the devil's name, what do you 
want, you imp ! 

Tonio (scratching his head)— Colonel 

Cardenas (after a short pause) — Well ! 

Tonio — They said the Roughrider Colonel was here. 

Cardenas — Where d'd you come from.? 

Tonio — From outside. (Cardenas lays a rough hand on 
him.) I — (with chattering teeth) — I — belong here. 

Cardenas^ — On the plantation? (Tonio nods.) Can't you 
say yes sir? — ' 

Tonio (gasping) — Yes, sir. 

Cardenas — You've brought a message from, 

Tonio — Are you the Colonel? , 

Cardenas (shaking him) — Don't question me! I'm the 
man for your news. 

Tonio (trembling, yet approaching Cardenas for a better 
inspection of his coat) — You haven't got on a Colonel's coat. 

Cardenas (throwing out an angry arm. which Tonioi with 
a quick movement escapes) — Damn you ! Did I say I am 
the Colonel ? The Colonel's in camp. Y'ou can't go there 
unless your news is worth listening to. The Colonel's not 
coming here, and if he were he wouldn't waste any time 
on you. 

Tonio (backing farther away, and trembling more vio- 
lently) — They said the Colonel would be here in the house. 
I'll wait. 

Cardenas (after a short scrutiny of the boy, affecting a 
laugh of hearty good humor) — Well, j'-ou are a gritty one! 
Too bad you aren't big enough to be a soldier. 

Tonio (reassured, coming eagerly forward) — Oh, seiior, 
I'd like to be one. 

Cardenas (rellectively) — I'd like to see what kind of a 
soldier you'd make. (Tonio straightens up unconsciously.) 
I've got it! (clapping his hands gleefully). I'm going to 
see .just what sort of stuff you're made of. Now (step- 
ping back a little), you're a soldier and I'm your general. 
Salute! (Himself giving the salute, which Tonio instantly 
copies.) Right about face! (Tonio suiting the action to 



32 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



the word.) Right about face! Sit down in that chair, (in- 
dicating the one near the table which Tonio is facing, in 
which Tonio seats himself). Head up! Shoulders back! 
(Tonio quickly responds.) Good! I'rivate, you have a mes- 
sage for one of my colonels. Give it to me ! 

Tonio (uncertainly, but bravely) — I can't, general. 

Cardenas (after a short pause, during which he stands 
stroking Ivis chin, his elbow resting in the palm of his left 
hand) — Then I must punish you. What's his name — the 
overseer here — 

Tonio (still erect, with frightened eyes . and trembling 
voice )^ — Quitas. 

Cardenas (studying the ground) — If you're the right sort 
of soldier you can stand — (a pause, during which Tonio 
ti-embles violently) — no, not a whipping. Let's see! (looking 
reflectively over his hand at his trembling victim). In very 
bad cases this — duitas — uses the— dungeon, I'm told. 

Tonio (rising and trembling from head to foot) — Not 
that, seizor. 

Cardenas (turning with decision) — Yes: in there you'll 
find your tongue the sooner, (going toward the dungeon 
covering). 

Tonio (his voice shrill with fear) — I won't wait, seiior ! 

Cardenas (in a wheedling tone) — Oh. ves ! It's a nice 
place to wait — ^so cool and dark, (kneeling by the slab). 

Tonio (more shrilly) — Seiior ! 

Cardenas (taking out a pistol and covering the boy with 
it)- — Take care ! Cry out and you're a dead nigger. Come ! 
(Tonio stands rooted to the spot.) And when vou come out 
again . remember to say that Quitas put a^ou in for punish- 
ment. Come ! (pushing back the slab with little difficultv 
and raising the iron door it conceals). Hurry up! (leveling 
the pistol at the boy, at which Tonio starts mechanically 
forward and after a few steps falls to the floor in a faint.) 
Good! (reaching to take him by the collar and drag the 
body across a corner of the opening till the legs hang over, 
then dropping it). Huh! (as a splash is heard) a little 
water (laughing) will help revive him if waking doesn't 
kill him. (closing the door and slipping back the stone). 
Then (still kneeling) if you make a howl, nigger (rising 
and turning to the fountain, the sight of which induces an 
uproarious laugh), you (pointing to the fountain), you, our 
oracular fountain, you'll be the cause of it, of course, (sitting 
on the fountain-bench). Guess you'll keep, nigger, till about 
midnight, then I'll try again for your news. ^Yhatever it is 
Fairfax doesn't get it. Well, Colonel (clasping his hands 
about his knees and leaning back). West Point's all right on 
tactics, but I don't fancy she's up on strategies. The trick's 
mine to-morrow, and the trap's yours, and if I can help it 
your bones shall never know another burying ground, (rising 
and stretching himself, after a reflective pause). Well, I'd 
better be looking up Jose Quitas. (Goes off R.) 

The moon rising high over the court floods it with light. 

After a few moments Lolita and Otero enter C. 

Lolita (in an incredulous tone) — You swear it? 

Otero — I swear it. 

Lolita (going slowly to the fountain)— But why should 
Ca.ietan wish to be rid of him? 

Otero — Can you think of no reason? 

Lolita (impatiently) — None. As far as I know my cousin 
has always admired Colonel Fairfax — admired him greatly. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 



Otero (with a sarcastic laugh) — Sol Perhaps until he 
heard some things the Colonel said to me of you. (Lita's 
fingers tighten on her fan. and her fully arrested attention 
is not lost on Otero.) Your work, your goodness, your gen- 
erosity — without other charm — (with a convincing laugh) — 
I know, senorita, that Colonel Fairfax adores you. 

Lolita (laughing lightly) — But that Cajetan should be 
jealous ! 

Otero (shrugging his shoulders) — Perhaps not. You 
should remember you have become more precious to him 
since the Spanish destroyed his property. If Colonel Fair- 
fax is fortunate enough to win you, senorita, he must gain, 
too. vour property, no? 

Lolita— Ah ! 

Otero — To Cardenas, your 

Lolita (with a searching look) — Why have you told me 
this? 

Otero (earnestly)- — ^I owe it to you. seiiorita. You have 
always dealt honorably by me. You are in— Colonel Fair- 
fax loves you. You are interested in him. Your cousin 
now hates him. 

Lolita (deeply meditative) — So he and Colonel Fairfax 
fight on my account to-morrow? 

Otero — Yes. 

Lolita — Down near the gorge ? 

Otero (concealing a smile) — Yes. 

liOlita (her face dark) — And Cajetan will practice a little 
treachery. 

Otera (suppressing a laugh) — Enough to be sure he'll 
kill the Colonel. 

Lolita- — Since you tell me this you are prepared to help 
me. 

Otero — Y'^es. Colonel Fairfax comesi tonight ? 

Lolita — Yes. 

Otero (taking a case from his pocket) — -Here! (taking a 
small vial from the case). If you give him wine— and 
this — he — will not fight tomorrow. 

Lolita— All of it? 

Maidservant (entering C. door, announcing) — Colonel Fair- 
fax. 

Roger enters C. Sei-vant goes. 

Lolita turns with a start and a nervous laugh. 

Otero (calmly handing the bottle to her) — ^Half of that 
in a glass of wine. 

Roger (coming forward) — That sounds ominous. Doctor, 
(taking Lita's extended hand). The senorita isn't in danger 
of fever, I hope. Her hand is hot and dry. 

Otero (smiling at Lita) — The danger will be past to- 
morrow. Colonel. 

Roger — I'm glad of that for her sake and my own. If 
Senorita Juarez should fall ill. Doctor, my men would all 
desert camp and haunt the court of their Lady Bountiful. 

Lolita (laughing and looking at Otero) — -Believe me. 
I'll stand by their colonel better than that. 

Roger (as Otero moves off) — Not going now. Doctor? 
(Lolita hurriedly puts the bottle in her bosom). Aren't 
you going to stav for the dance? 

Otero (shaking his head) — I must go now. I may get 
back befoi-e the dance is finished. 

Lolita (kindly) — We'll look for you. (Otero goes off C.) 
Do you realize (reproachfully, as they come forward) that 
you've been here quite a v>'eek? (pausing). 



34 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



Roger (smiling) — Yes. And that camp duties bar me 
from doing the social up in style. My misfortune (bowingj, 
not my fault, (looking admiringly about). I always 
thought you good at description, but (shaKing his head 
slowiy) — 

Loiita — Don't things come up to my description of them? 

Koger — from what I've seen your descriptions were 
mild. This court is idyllic (going closer to the fountain). 
The oracular fountain, 1 suppose. 

Loiita (laughiujg and sitting on the bench, directly facing 
the audience) — les. 

Roger — It looks peaceful and angelic enough now. 

Loiita — Tradition has it that the most terrible warnings 
have issued from it at just such times. 

Roger (moving back) — Aren't you afraid to be so close? 
My flesh creeps. How's my hair? Does it speak quite 
distinctly? The fountain, I mean. 

Loiita (laughingly) — It speaketh not. Its warning is r 
wail or a moan. 

Koger (Sitting beside her) — And you say it means — 

Loiita (oracularly)— Disaster to all who hear it. 

Roger — By tlie beard of the prophet I And I'd been hop- 
ing there'd be an exhibition for my special benefit. When 
were you last favored? 

Loiita — Two years ago. Just before two of tlie house 
servants were killed by lightning. I was away in the 
States, (nervotisly). Oh I (moving nearer to Roger) What 
was that? 

Roger — I heard nothing. (Loiita shudders.) You've been 
so much among the sick that you"re oppressed with nervous 
fancies. You must — 

Loiita (in great distress) — There it is again! (rising in 
affright, one arm almost about Roger's neck as she leans 
on his shoulder) There! Oh! (sinking down and hiding 
her face against Roger's arm) Don't you hear it? 

Roger (listening) — No. Nor did you (gently raising her 
face) liear any warning my dear girl. See here! (turning 
so as to face her squarely and increase the distance between 
them). If the fountain produces the noise you describe 
there's good cause for it. and I'd like nothing better than 
a chance to investigate it. 

Loiita (shuddering) — I don't want you ever to have the 
cliance. (laughing nervously). I'm giving you a poor wel- 
come — on your first visit, too. It's fortunate La Rosa is 
still here. I'erhaps she may be more successftil in enter- 
taining you. (with sorrowful reflection) I wonder if you 
would ever have come if she hadn't been here. 

Rogpr (smiling) — La Rosa's been here, hasn't she. ever 
since the invasion of Santiago was begun? How fortunate 
she is in having you for a friend? 

Loiita (meaningly) — She realizes and appreciates it. 
Odd, isn't it? 

Roger— ( )dd ! 

Loiita — Yes. She didn't seek my friendship. I offered 
it. (mournfully). You sought my regard. I gave and still 
give it. and to you (looking ahead with sad eyes) it is 
valueless. 

Roger — In what way have I shown that I so hold it? 

Loiita (with a catch in her voice) — In avoiding me. 

Rosrer (with a quiet smile) — Tonight? 

Loiita — Tonight you are liere at my bidding, (dropping 
her head pathetically). There was a time when you didn^t 
wait for that, (raising her head despairingly). What have 
you've been here quite a week (pausing) ? 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 35 



wait for that (raising tier tiead despairingly). What have 
1 done that you should be so changed? 

Roger (deprecatingly) — I assure you — 

Lolita (with a remuiiscent expression) — In appearance 
you are the same man of three years ago — a man known 
to his friends to be above fear and above reproach. 

Roger (quietly) — ^And the appearance is deceiving? 

Lolita (turning passionately) — Not so, I pray, but that 
your actions are ; that they were true in those days in 
Mexico when you taught me my first lesson in love — 

Roger (moving back distressed) — Lita ! 

Without, mandolins and guitars play softly from "The 
Intermezzo." 

Lolita (softly, dreamily, with eyes fixed straight ahead) — 
When I learned to listen hourly for your footsteps that I 
knew better than the beating 'of my own lieart ; when I 
found that day was bright only with the light from your 
eyes ; that night was endurable only when its coming had 
been ushered in with the music of your voice — 

Roger (rising in great distress) — Lita! 

Lolita — Then — when it was clear to me that life meant 
love, and you had given me life (brokenly), your mission 
ended there (sitnng upright, with calmer voice, her face 
illumined with a higher light) and mine — began- — to prove 
to you the life you gave should be a blessing, not a curse, 
to you. And you shall have one proof — tomorrow, (rising 
she totters forward). 

Roger (supporting her and taking her hand) — Lita! 
Come ! You are beside yourself with fever. 

Lolita (clinging to him as she straightens herself) — 
No, no (with a wild laugh) ! Not while I can still hold 
my own! (putting her hands to her head) Ah! It is all 
so — forgive me! (going toward the table). Forget that 
I've said! I — (putting her hand to her throat) — I — 
(sinking down into the chair) — my throat — is — parched! 

Roger (at her side) — You must take at once the medi- 
cine Otero left, (reaching for a glass). 

Lolita (faintly, her face for a moment only revealing 
her consternation) — I — must have — dropped the — 

Roger (going toward the fountain) — I'll look. 

Lolita (s^iatching the vial from her dress, her face dark 
with revengeful purpose) — Red Cross (hissingiv) 17 still 
ahead! But wait (stealthily watching Roger, as she hur- 
riedly pours part of the contents of the bottle into a glass) 
Magdalen Van Orsdale ! (with a sardonic smile) I'll score 
tomorrow! Oh! (pretending to take the bottle from her 
bosom, as Roger, stopping in his search, looks up) I — I 
remember now. I have It. (lifting the carafe and filling 
the glass with a shaking hand). Oh! (as Roger reaches 
the table) I've got it too full. 

Roger (taking the vial from her trembling fingers) 

No matter. Half of this in a glass of wine, I believe he 
said. 

liOlita (sinking back wearily) — Yes. 

Roger (after measuring it out and filling up the glass) — • 
I hope this may have immediate effect, (handing her the 
mixture). 

Lolita (with a faint smile, pointing to the other filled 
glass) — Let us drink to it! 

Roger (lifting the glass) — Your health ! 

Lohta (raising hers) — The same for you and success 
with it ! 



36, A MODERN MAGDALEN 



The prophetic moan is distinctly heard, and at this 
moment Otero appears in C. door. lie starts fearfully 
forward. 

Roger is motionless and keenly attentive. 

Loiita stands frozen until the sound dies away, then the 
glass falls from her hand and the crash arouses her. 

Loiita (falling on her knees and clasping Rogers hand) 
— Ah ! (piteously) You heard. Disaster will come — 

Qtero (leaning against a pillar, his face clouded with 
superstitious fear, his voice awe-stricken) — to us all. 

Roger (with conviction, as he helps Loiita to her feet) 
— It's a human voice, and the sound may come again. 

Loiita (putting her hands over her ears)- — It shall not 
be heard. Otero ! Music ! La Rosa ! 

Roger (as Otero goes off C.) — Lita, if you were only 
calmer ! You're foolish to let this go on. I wish I could 
convince you you're the victim of a trick. 

Loiita (taking the chair, and anxiously watching the 
door) — No. You'll see. 

Four mulato boys in native costume enter C. with man- 
dolins and guitars. Two take the bench in R. corner, two 
sit cross-legged on the floor in front of them. 

Otero, entering at L., stands beside the table. 

Roger (to Lita) — If you'll pardon my interest in the 
fountain, now that the doctor has returned, I'd like 
(smiling) to make a closer acquaintance with it. 

Loiita (shuddpri^g, as Roger goes) — Y\^u'd best not. 

La Rosa enters C. 

Roger seats himself on the fountain-bench somewhat 
back at L. side. 

Loiita (smilingly) — We're impatient. Rosa. 

La Rosa bows smilingly in answer and the dance begins. 
During the first part of it. nurses in Red Cross habits 
come to linger in C. doorway a few moments in passing. 
At the finish, as La Rosa moves into the background, her 
foot catching on the disnlaced dungeon-covering, she falls. 

Loiita (starting up) — Oh! 

Otero starts forward, but stops as Roger is instantly 
at the dancer's side. 

Roger (helping her to her feet) — I hope you're not 
badly hurt. (La Rosa, shaking her head and laughing 
confusedly, hurries out after throwing a kiss to Lita.) A 
loose flag' (attempting to replace it with his foot) answers 
for— 

Loiita (going forward) — The dungeon-cover (falling back 
toward Otero, as the moan is again distinctly heard). 

Roger — Dungeon! (with the triumph of conviction in his 
face) So (looking toward the fovintain) we'll be favored 
with an introduction to the body of your voice, (kneeling to 
push back the slab and raise the door). 

Tonio (piteously) — Senorita. 

Loiita (starting forward) — Tonio! 

Roger (neering in) — A child's voice! 

Tonio — Senorita! (moaning). 

Otero (also drawn to the opening) — It is Tonio. 

Loiita (bending over the opening)^ — Tonio, are you hurt'? 
Can vou walk? 

Roger — He is moving. How can we reach him? 

Loiita (to one of the colored boys who huddle in a 
frightened group — Pedro ! My shawl, there ! (pointing to 
the bench at L.) The rest of you, go! (They obey.) Go I 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 37 

w n^^"^^ n ^'^'* brings the shawl in great haste and hurries 

out C.) Can you hold to my shawl V 

^.^^^oger (taking the shawl and lowering it)— Will it 

Lolita — Easily. 
.o?^£^i"T^^^"'^' ^y ,^^y' if you can hold to this till we 
n^L^''^''^', ^T-,!'' ""^^^''^ pause). There! He has it. Here! 
Otero, take hold and pull! (Otero takes the shawl, and 
h^F^J*^'^"^ ^Z^\' *?^^ opening in a position to take the 
boy the moment he is within reach). 

Otero (as the hoy's head appears)— He slips. 

istr;;nTh'j"flTo"^' ""'' '" ''"^' ^«"^^' ^'^ ^^^-^^^^^ ^-^•^' 

Koger (supporting the child's head)— Poor little lad ' 
f^o^l^^/ kneeling beside the child)— Tonio, speak! "(her 
^en^d gentleness and pity). Tell me how this hap- 

Tonio (feebly)— Quitas. (Lolita draws in her breath 
sharply.) Senorita—( trying to raise his head). 
Loiita — Is here beside vou. Tonio 

Cardenas appeai-s in the window L. of C. door and is 
seen by Otero only , 

Tonio ( ^iniciiiK sii-l.tiy)— Tell— Rough— rider— Colonel- 
Roger (raiymg- his again)— Here, Tonio. 
-^^^/_^ (Wiih levLT sh cxfoi-r) — Way— underground — secret 

Cardenas and (Jtero exchange tense glances. 

Lolita — He raves. 

Tonio (with another effort) — Secret— way— leads— to— 
(pause). 

Roger (tensely) — To what, Tonio? 
. Tonio (trying to sit up. his eyes wild) — Spy ! Spv ! He 
IS— he IS — i sitting up and gazing fixedly at Roger). 

Roger — \ps, Tonio. 

Tonio (with maniacal cleverness)^I'll wait for (slin- 

pmg back)— the— Colonel (sinking into Roger's arms \nrd 
laughing with wild gloe). 

Cardenas, with a smile cf triumph, disappears. 
CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

Scene H—In camp of the Fairfax Roughriders. Two 
days after battle. , 

The intorior of Colonel Fairfax's tent, a full view of 
which is had through a spacious opening. 

In. the left background a cot. 

In the left foreground a table with a camp-stool on ei^ch 
side or it. 

At rhe right, m'dway of the canvas and close against it 
a low oblong chest of plain wood. 

In the back canvas, to the right, broad flaps are folded 
ba^'k. making a good-sized entrance. Through it is had 
a vievv of towering purple peaks and a near glimpse of small 
tents in a setting of tropical verdure. In the distance also 
are soldiers scattered here and there, some passing to and 
fro, others lolling on the ground in groups 



38 A MODERN MAGDALEX 



At the right of the tent in the foreground a clump of 
trees. 

At the left in the foreground low shrubs. 

It is broad day. 

At the rise of the curtain Roger and Dick are discovered, 
the former seated on the stool near C, the latter on that 
near the canvas. The uniforms of both show the wear 
and tear of the recent battle. 

Roger's left arm is bandaged and rests in a sling. 

Dick has a limp. 

Koger iweariij'j — Yes. Dick, it might all have been 
very different if we could have learned something from 
Tonio. 

Dick (sympathetically) — An' ye couldn't worry nothin* 
out o' 'im? 

Roger (abstractedly) — Nothing. Not even in his wildest 
ravL 3_. Lat' he j^iven a clue. 

Dick — An' ye hain't found no underground way? 

Roger (slowly shakins: his >iead> — Xo : wo haven't dis- 
covered any secret passage. The boy probably meant the 
dungeon. 

Dick (grimly) — But Tony wan't ratty when he waa 
a-ramblin' on about the spy. Au (wiiu aoggeu eunvictu^x^i 
be God 1 it must fi-been that same damned reptyle thet 
chugged 'im in the hole. 

Roger (languidly) — Quitas declares he put the boy there 
for running away from his work. It seems to be the 
common resort in severe cas^s. 

Dick (grinning sarcastically) — An' this was a devilish 
severe one. But Tony wa'n't put in thar by none o' the 
hired hands, not by a damned sight. You don't swallow 
it ither, pard — ^Colonel. 

Roger (sadly) — What I may believe. Dick, doesn't fur- 
nish me with proofs to fix upon the traitor. And Tonio's 
proofs were needed most two days ago. 

Dick — Even ef ye lied a-nabbed the traitor — blast his 
crooked wirdpipe I — we'd a-hed to fight all the samee when 
the dirty Spanish devils made a dead set at us. But 
when thev trap us agin mebbe they'll count on a dark 
horse. Say, but them niggers did finish 'em ! 

Kogpr (bowiTisr his head on his liJi^d) — If the Eierhth had 
been twenty minutes later — I shouldn't have got out with 
even a ha^ dtui ct men. Dick — Dicli — l led those brave 
fellows to their death — ^(with a strong effort at self control) 
— and I — I — am spared, (covering his eyes with a trembling 
hand). 

Dick (chokingly) — Say. pard! (rising and walking off to 
R., (gulping hard). Stab me in the gizzard for a tender- 
foot 1 (gulping) I ain't game here. 

Roger (nursing his wounded arm) — Dick, this bullet- 
hole should have been plugged up. It's letting all my 
ooura<re out. I'll have to draw on you and Tex for another 
supoly. 

Dick (dryly) — Tex 1 huh I (coming back and reseating 
himself) The leg-puller an' pill-boy's got a tap on his'n. 

Roger fsmilira) — Tex'll weather it in spite of the doc- 
tors, (with sudden gravit.v). This morning he was pretty 
much upset because I intend going through with this inves- 
tigating business, (with a frown). How did he find out a 
susr>?r-t would be brought before us today 'i 

Dick — I'll bet Cadge Cardenas told 'im. 

Roger (scowling) — Does Tex know the person? 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 39 

Dick (grimly) — .Mebbe an' mebbe not. Say, Colonel (nerv- 
ously), ef thet bullet hain't a-blasted all yer nerve, ye've 
got to git another grip on yer tight-ropes. 

Roger — What now, Die's! Well (unconsciously straight- 
ening himself), out with your bad news! I think 1 can 
survive the blow. 

Dick (grufliy)— Don't gamble on it! It's a thunderbolt, 
(looking down and nervously tapping the stool). It — 1 — 
Judas priest, (rising and mopping his brow with his 
sleeve) You— (coming forward)— I— ( looking off into the 
distance at R.). Say! (with relief mingled with strong 
distaste) Say— mo— ree— ty Lo— lee— ty— our Lady 
Bountiful's— (with a sneer)— ^a-glidin' this way. 

Roger (with a humorous glance in the direction indicated 
by Dick) — So you're still unwon by all the Senorita's good- 
ness ! (Dick gives a little snort.) Well, Dick, you surely 
can t deny the grace of her glide. 

Dick (irritated and turning back into the tent) — It 'ud 
be more graceful goin' the other way. 

Roger (smiling) — You must own" you owe her a breath- 
ing-spell. 

Dick (shrugging his shoulders) — Yep. But I'll gamble 
you're in fer it, anvwav. When thev kerrv their heads like 
thet (mdicatine: with a ierk of bis head the dr-ect'on of 
Lolita's approach), they mean business, (going toward 
back). An' I (with a sigh) hain't any anecdote to kill 'er ' 
stiug. (going olf C). 

Roger (turning) — One moment, Dick, (following him to 
the door). 

Lolita appears. She is not gowned a la Red Cross, and 
has no head covering other than a parasol. 

Lolita (stopping near the clump of trees, in a listening 
attitude, her face, revealing both fear and hope)— If Quitas 
IS with Roger, all is lost. 

Roger (facing round as Dick goes) — Bring me word as 
soon as possible, (coming forward). 

Lolita (sauntering languidly into Roger's view) — I'm 
heartily glad you're on duty again. Colonel. But (with 
tender anxiety, as she crosses slowly to L.) are you (clos- 
ing her parasol) strong enough for it? For today's painful 
work ; 

Roger— I've the strength of impatience. T want to get 
to the end of this business. Will you be seated? (motioning 
to the stool at L.) To see the traitorous face of one of 
my own men (Lita smiles unperceived by Roger as he 
walks iorward to throw a searching glance toward R en- 
trance) will cause me not so much suffering as the sus- 
pense. 

Lolita (toying abstractedly with the lace of her parasol) 
— Lm not so sure. I hope not. I supposed you knew — 
Roger (going back to tiie table)— I don't even know the 
suspect s name, nor anything concerning the arrest I 
shall probably hear all details in a very few minutes when 
General RiA-evs arrives. 

Lolita (laying her parasol on the table) — I left the Gen- 
eral at thp house. He asked me to tell you he'd be delaved 
ten or fifteen minutes. 

Roger (sitting) — Is there somethina- I can do for ^'ou "^^ 
Lolita (apparently distressed) — I wish you could '' (pout- 
ingly) ! It's anything but pleasant for me to be dragged 
Roger— Quitas ! (wirh a slight frown) He seems to have 
into this affair. 

Roger (surprised) — In what way? 



40 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



Lolita — I don't know, nnless it's by way of Jose Quitas. 
Roger — Quitas (with a slight frown) ! He seems to have 
a faculty for getting people into unpleasant places. How 
has he plunged you into this affair V 

Lolita (with a vexed laugh) — By offering himself as 
principal witness against the suspect. 
Roger — Ah ! 

Lolita — I suppose the General wants me to swear to 
Jose's veracity. 

Roger (emerging from a deep study) — So Quitas has been 
looking for a reward. 

Lolita (impatiently) — Even if the reward should prove 
to be rightfully his. I shouldn't allow him to receive it. 
The bringing to justice of a traitor to his country should 
be satisfaction enough, (deeply earnest). I hope Jose has 
made no mistake. 

Roger — Jose probably knows in a case like this he must 
furnish incontestable proofs. 

Lolita* (looking straight ahead, and assuming a dreamy 
expression) — -Jose no doubt has them. 

Dick (appearing in door at back) — Message (saluting) 
for Colonel Fairfax. 

Roger goes instantly to Dick, who hands him a paper, 
and both step outside the tent. 

Lolita (with a smile of enjoyment) — And what proofs 
Jose hasn't, I can furnish him. Ah I Magdalen van Orsdale, 
what wouldn't you give to have found this little pin ! 
Roger's pin ! It certainly will scratch you off the list, 
Magdalen, dear — you with your frank, innocent face and 
(sneeringly) your silvery voice that so singles you out, 
even to my overseer. I'oor Magdalen I (sarcastically) When 
you plot treason in dark hours and lonely places, you should 
leave your voice and Roger's pir at home. Since you didn't, 
and Fate still is with me. I can now supply Jose with an 
incontestable proof, (going leisurely forward to stealthily 
scan the approach at R.). 

Quitas enters noiselessly. He is a mulatto of small 
stature and thin. Craft and cunning show in every line of 
his wrinkled face. His eyes are small and bead.v. His ear- 
lobes sport large hoop earrings. He is in the native garb 
of an upper servant. As he appears within v'ew of Lita 
alone, she imperiously motions him back, her eyes glittering. 
Jose, stealthily retreating, takes position back of the clump 
of trees. 

Roger (re-ent-ering) — I'll answer in person. 
Lolita (relaxing in triumph) — Ah! (sauntering back). 
You're not called av/ay now? 

Roger (taking his hat from the table) — Yes, I'll not be 
gone more than five minutes. (Goes off back.) 

Lolita, hastening forward, eagerly searches the approach 
at R. Xot seeing Jose, she gives a low, peculiar whistle. 
Jose, coming from hia place of C9ncealment. she meets him 
just without the tent- Jose, removing his hat and holding 
it in front of him v.'ith bo1h hands. 

Lolita — Well! (with cold dignity). Your orders were to 
come to the house. 

Quitas (his deferential attitude tinged with cowardice) — 
I went to the house, senorita. Maria told me you had just 
left. 

Lolita (freezingly) — You saw General Rivers? 
Quitas — Xo, senorita. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 41 



Lolita (facing the servant with less coldness) — Then he 
doesn't know yet that you haven't the proof required"? 

Quitas (dejected, his head down, one hand fumbling ner- 
vously with his hat) — No. senorita. No better proof than 
my eyes, my ears, my word. 

Lolita (laughing with soft scorn) — Your eyes weren't 
good enough to distinguish either of the pair of plotters 
you overheard. Your ears only can swear that there was a 
woman and a man. Your word — you can repeat word for 
word the woman's speech? 

Quitas (nodding emphatically) — Yes, senorita. And wheh 
I repeat it before the woman 

Lolita — She may not give a sign. What will your word 
amount to then'? (Quitas hangs his head.) And the Gen- 
eral will be very angry. 

Quitas (apprehensively) — But I am under your protection, 
senorita. 

Lolita (with a scornful smile) — Yes. I. too, have thought 
of that. After you brought me your story I did not go 
directly to the General. I went first to the place of meet- 
ing to see if I might not find some clew. You wouldn't 
shine as a detective, Jose. I found 

Quitas (looking up eagerly and clutching his hat tightly) 
— Senorita — senorita (with a half gasp) 

Lolita — Found what alone could save you from the Gen- 
eral's wrath. In return (looking reflectivelv ahead as Jose 
stands, his head bent low. his hat pressed tightly to him) 
all you do to repay me is (with intense emphasis) to re- 
member that I have no part in the affair. Here Is the proof 
you found, (handing Jose the pin). 

Quitas (with humblest deference) — The proof I found* 
yes. senorita. 

Lolita (hurriedly, as the tread of feet and the distant 
murmur of voices are heard) — Remember ! Back ! till the Gen- 
eral comes! ((^oing to the stool, while Jose takes his posi- 
tion just outside the tent.) 

General Rivers enters at back, accompanied by Roger. 
Rivers is soldierly, tall, portly, stern. Hair and mustache 
gray. He carries a small package of papers in his hand. 

Dick reappears to take position at L. side of entrance, 
racing out. 

Rivers (In a crisp, businesslike tone, the moment of ap- 
pearance) — Came not a half hour ago. The reward you 
offered is fine bait. 

Roger— If it catches the right fish, (throwing his hat on 
the cot). 

Lolita (standing) — You'll not detain me long. General? 

Rivers (with a slight bow. as he places his hat and papers 
on the table) — I hope not. 

Lolita (as Rivers looks about for another seat) — The chest 
will serve me, General, (walking across to it and seating 
herself). 

Rivers and Roger take the stools, the former that at L., 
the latter lifting the opposite one into position at back of 
table, facing the audience. 

Quitas. assuming a bold front, apppars in view of the tent 
occupants, taking position in tlw U. foreground, not con- 
cealing Lolita. Neither Rivers nur Roger acknowledges his 
presence. 

Rivers (grimly, to Roger)— Thi^ last bait-snapper says he 



42 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



has evidence that might inci'imiiiate himself — will convict — 
and promises to hand me over the traitor to-day. I sent him 
word we would deal lightly with him if hei assisted us in 
securing the traitor. 

Roger (smiling wanljO — rj-obahly a case of falling out 
among rogues. 

Rivers — A case with more promising indications than the 
one in hand, (with a cursory glance at Lita). Miss Juarez 
(fixing his eyes on the papers he is fingering), my anony- 
mous correspondent requested that you be present during 
your overseer's testimony. (Lita settles back with startled 
eyes, darkening face and compressed lips.) 

Roger (who has been unmindful of the address to Lita) — 
You say the prisoner has denied the charge. 

Rivers — Of treason, yes (taking a letter from the top of 
the package, opening and reading) : "I swear that I am 
as innocent of tlie charge of treason laid upon me as I am 
ignorant of the grounds for my imprisonment" (laying the 
sheet unfolded on the table). 

Roger (laughing grimly) — A safe oath. Most diplomatic. 

Magdalen enters R. with a colored guard. She is cos- 
tumed as a Red Cross nurse, the number 17 in white being 
distinctly visible in the large red cross prominent midway 
of each upper sleeve. She is pale and distinguished by a 
sorrowful dignity. The twain are not yet visible to the tent 
occupants. 

Rivers (with crisp scorn) — What else could you expect 
from a woman V 

Roger (starting back with a horrified face) — Woman! 

Rivers (with an impatient shove of the papers) — Of the 
Red Oross. 

Roger (in pained surprise) — A nurse I Who is ■ 

Magdalen enters the tent unperceived by Roger. 

Ouard takes position at R. wall of tent, facing front, his 
gun at his side. 

Rivers (fixing a surprised scowl on the prisoner) — Before 
us. 

Magdalen stands a few paces from the table, her position, 
not concealing Lita. 

Roger (springing to his feet at sight of Magdalen) — 
Magdalen I (Rivers turns to Roger in surpi*ise.) Miv God! 
(clutching the table for support). General (struggling ef- 
fectually for self-control), there is some fearful mistake! 

Lolita is unnoticed in Roger's intense agitation. Sup- 
ported by one hand resting on the chest, she leans forward, 
her eyes" fastened on Itoger. her lips parted in a smile of 
triumi^h which is made more cruel by the disclosed t^eth. 

Rivers (sharply) — Let us hope -so. Calm yourself, Fair- 
fax I Qui';as, come forward where you can face the pris- 
oner : 

Quitas obeys, taking position a little back of Rivers. 

Roger's eyes follow and rest piercingly on Quitas. whoi 
shifts his gaze from Magdalen to Lita, who signs to him to 
settle it on Magdalen. 

Magdalen regards her accuser with clear, steadfast eyes. 

Rivers — Miss (consulting the letter lying before him) Van 
Orsdale. the charge of treason is brought against you by 
this man (indicating him bj' a curt wave of the hand), 
who claims to have come upon yon in secret conversation 
with" another between R and 10 o'clock or the night pre- 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 43 



ceding the recent battle. (Magdalen gives an almost imper- 
ceptible start, her left hand clutcliing lier gown, her eyes 
falling.) Do 3'ou deny being party to such conversation? 

Magdalen (stonily, and slowly raising her eyes to meet 
those of her questioner; — I deny being party to any treas- 
onable plot or to the knowledge of any. 

Roger looks at Rivers with a smile of satisfaction. 

Lolita. with catlike patience, fixes her cruel smile- on 
Magdalen, who is unconscious of it. 

Rivers (sharply, to Quitas) — Repeat what you heard of 
the conversation. 

Quitasi — She was talking 

Roger (sternly) — A woman was talking. 

Otero enters at back and quietly takes position in the back- 
ground L. of Roger. 

Quitas (nervously) — A woman (doggedly, after a glance 
at Lita). This is the woman. I know her voice. She was 
talking to a man. She said : '"Not your money. Never 
fear I" (Magdalen leaus forward fixing a desperate look on 
Quitas, her lips parted with fear, her hands clutching at the 
bosom of her gown.) ""I should die rather than let it be 
wrung from me" (Magdalen turns mechanically to Roger, 
who IS watching her witli a terrified face) "that you be- 
trayed" . That's all I caught. 

Roger (in agonized protest) — Magdalen! For God's sake, 
Geneial, she is overwrought by hard work and the false 
charge I I would swear on my life she is innocent I 

Quitas — And I swear I've told the truth ! 

Otero (with a satisfied smile) — I swear it, tool (All turn 
in surprise, I.ita half rising in her astonishment.) I was 
there — after tiie man. I thought he was going to meet — 
someone else, which would have made the meeting of special 
interest to me. 

Roger (turning to Otero, his face drawn) — But you were 
mistaken in the woman's voice. 

Otero (shaking his head and smiling disagreeably) — No. 

Quitas; — I swear to her voice 1 And at the place where 
they were standing one of the two dropped this, (holding 
up the pin). 

Roger staggers back, his hand to his eyes. 

Magdalen droops her head, and her arms hang limply at 
her s'dcs. 

Lolita settles back in relieved satisfaction, moistening 
her dry lips, and passing the back of her hand lightly over 
her eyes. 

Otero's attitude is that of a spectator delighted with a 
tableau arranged for his special benefit. 

Rivers looks up jntyingly at Roger. 

Quitas gazes fixedly at Lita. returning to the nervous 
clutching and twisting of his hat. 

Rivers (to Roger, who is now looking at Magdalen with 
dazed eyes) — You recognize the pin? 

Roger (without takirm" his eyes from Magdalen) — Yes. 
(After a hliurr pause, in a voice unnatural and painfully 
distinct) — It is mine, (falling back slightly and dropping 
his head). 

Lolira (springing to her feet, her eyes wild with fury, her 
hands clenched at her breast, her teeth set) — Ah I 

Otero meets the surprise with soft laughter and turns 
questioningly toward the door at back. 



44 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



Rivers has sprung to his feet simultaneously with Lita, 
and, gripping Roger's arm, fixes a storn. searching glance on 
him. 

Dick, striding forward, looks speechlessly at Roger's avert- 
ed face. 

Cardenas enters at back between two guards, Otero mo- 
tioning them to halt. They stop just within the door. 

Maodalen (recovering first) — General ! As there's a God 
above us, Roger Fairfax is not guilty of treason to his coun- 
try or to his flag. Whoever believes it believes 

Dick (beyond all restraint) — A damned lie! 

Otero (coming to the front and motioning the unnoticed^ 
trio forward )^And here (chuckling softly as he waves a 
hand toward Cardenas) is the proof of it. 

Roger steps back toward Lita. who has sunk down on the 
chest, her wrist to her forehead, her eyes staring blankly. 

Cai'denas and guards take position in L. background. 

Rivers has seated himself, smiling grimly. 

Otero takes a position just back of Rivers. 

Magdalen (gasping, her vo'ce almost a whisper) — Cajetan 
Cardenas! (One hand at her throat, the other clenched 
at her side.) 

Roger — At last ! 

Cardenas glances at Magdalen, smiling familiarly, then 
shifting his eyes looks fixedly ahead, his manner collected. 

Otero^ — Cardenas, verily. (To Cardenas) — Amigo mlo. 
exonerate (laughing softly) your — friend, (looking toward 
Magdalen, v>'ho bows her head). Quitas, you know, didn't 
catch all of the conversation that night. 

Cardenas (without looking at Alagdalen) — Whatever con- 
versation Jose Quitas overheard between myself and this — 
nurse — (Magdalen's head sinks lower) — had nothing to do 
with treason. I and I alone planned to deliver the Fairfax 
Roughriders into the trap of the Spanish, whose agent I've 
been since the war began. 

Lolita (leaning forward in agonized surprise) — No! 

Roger (in a low. suppressed tone) — You fiend! 

•Cardenas — I only regret (with an ugly leer at Roger) 
that the Fairfax dead don't number their Colonel. 

Dick (with a snort) — Tiiere wont' be no regrets when the 
Fairfax dead number a traitor! (Going off at back.) 

Roger (sadly, his gaze fixed absently on Otero) — I think 
there must ever be regret that the Fairfax dead must number 
a traitor. 

Cardenas — And not count among them that dog. (pointing 
to Otero with a venomous glance). 

Otero (with a disagreeable laugh)- — Well, you see, I con- 
fessed on promise of pardon. Pardon's all I get. amigo. 
That's better business than I did with you. You get both 
glory and gold. If I hadn't trapped you I'd now be among 
the stiff and cold. And but for me (with an expressive 
shrug) your Colonel and your — friend — the nurse (smiling) 

Lolita (rising, stung into fury, her whole being trembling 
with passion) — But for you, Diego Otero, my cousin would 
not die a traitor's death! (To Roger) — But for you I 
should not suffer a broken heart. But for you (turning 
savagely on Magdalen, who recoils), you! — you infamous 
creature! (Magdalen, with a low moan, covers her face) — 
you' have killed my hapniness, and now (snatching a dagger 
from her bosom) I kill (the dagger flashing high as she 
springs lithely forward) you! 



5 
A MODENR MAGDALEN 4 



Cardenas attempts to rush forward, but is held by the 
guards. 

Roger, with a quick movement, tries to stay Lita's up- 
flung arm. The blade falling grazes his right hand, Llta 
falling against him. Before Roger can free his able arm 
to hold her Lita springs backward, panting, but still ablaze 
with fury, the dagger held close. 

Magdalen mechanically crosses to Rivers's side, without 
taking her terrified gaze from Lita. 

Quitas, fallen on his knees, crosses himself repeatedly 
and mumbles apparent supplications. 

Rivers (sharply, to the colored guard) — Guard! (the guard 
wheels with a quick salute) Take (pointing to Lita) that 
woman ! 

Lolita, at the advance of the guard, raises the dagger, 
and with unerring aim. plunges it into her own breast. 

Magdalen, with a low cry, turns her face away, and, her 
back to the audience, leans heavily on her right hand 
that has sought the table for support. 

Guard, arrested by Lolita's act, removes his hat and 
stands with bowed head. 

Lolita (gasping) — No — nigger — lays — his — hands — on — 
Lolita — Juarez, (trotting forward, Roger catches her, but 
she slips to the ground. Kneeling beside her be lifts her 
Slightly to support her against him). Roger I (as he gently 
takes her hand, his face deeply sorrowful) I.Roger! (faintly, 
then with supreme effort) Life — for me — meant— love — 
from — you. Your — (longer pauses) — love-:-denied — means — 
(falling back dead). 

CURTAIN. 



Act III. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 49 



ACT III. 



At the Stebbins farm. Late October, 

Scene I — The sitting-room of the farmhouse cozily and 
artistically refurnished, red being the predominant color. 

The walls are covered with dainty pictures irregularly 
hung, several in a space. 

Pretty portieres conceal all the doors but that leading 
into the hall at R. 

The heavy curtains of the bay-window are drawn wide 
apart, revealing a five o'clock tea-table, the window-seat 
covered with pretty cushions, and the dainty sheer window 
curtains. 

The windows are bright in the glow of the sun just 
sinking beneath the water. The grass is brown and dead. 

A case of books stands between the bay and R. wall. At 
each side, not against the wall, is a chair. 

Between the doors in R. wall is a quaint old table un- 
covered. In its center is a large lamp, at one side a rose- 
bow'l. a"d scattered about a few small books. 

A little at L. of center of room is a comfortable couch, 
at its head a handsome silk pillow, across its foot, trailing 
on the flt)or, a Persian shawl. A magazine lies near the 
pillow. Two plain pillows lie on the floor propped against 
the couch. 

Near the head of the couch is a high-backed chair. 

At L. of fireplace is a rocker. At upper end the old 
settle. In front of this a step-ladder. 

Over the mantelboard is the lookingglass. Its length 
parallel with the board, its frame partly concealed by sprays 
of autumn leaves. On the board is a vase of roses and 
several conspicuous Cuban relics — machetes, strings of 
Cuban hears, etc. A large photo of Roger in uniform stands 
at the farther end. 

Tne nre-ioers burn briehtlv in the snacious fireplace. 

The old clock still occupies the L. corner of the room. 
At the rise of the curtain it is on the stroke of 5. 

Madge (entering backward through upper door at L.) — 
Shut your eyes tight. I'll lead you. 

Aunt Marthy, her eyes closed, and with both hands tightly 
held by Miadge, is slowly drawn into the room. She is in 
a tidy black gown, and wears a fresh gingham apron. 

Madge is also apron-enveloped, and her sleeves are turned 
up above the elbow. 

Aunt Marthy — Can't I open 'em now? 

Madge (laughing, her face radiant) — Just a second, (as 
they are close the chair at R. of bay) Now! (watching 
Aunt Marthy eagerly). 

Aunt Marthy (after a circling glance, with a little gasp 
of bewilderment, both hands upheld) — Land alive I An' 
you an' Magdalen done it I 



50 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



Madge (motioning toward the window) — And look in 
here! Isn't it dear! (ecstatically). Don't you like it? 

Aunt Marthy (critically) — Thet ain't so bad. (turning 
to look about the room again). Out here it's kind a-cluttered 
up, but (with a half sigh) I guess I'll git used to it. 

Madge (going swiftly to kneel by Aunt Marthy, and put- 
ting impulsive arms about her) — Aunt Marthy, you're a 
dear to spend so much money for me. 

Aunt Marthy (a hand on Madge's head) — I hain't spent 
no money, child. Magdalen done it all. 

Madge (rising quickly and frowning jealously) — So it's 
Miss Magdalen who's done all this against Rogers com- 
ing! 

Aunt Marthy (soothingly)— I guess she wants — 

Madge (choKingly)- — To have things nice for Roger. 

Aunc Marthy (smiling) — Don't you? 

Madge (unheeding the question and coming nearer Aunt 
Marthy, her hands clasped) — Aunt Marthy, are you sure 
he loves me? 

Aunt Marthy (shaking her head perplexedly) — Hain't he 
a-comin' here today to ask ye to hev 'im? 

Madge (in a strained voice) — I know. But ever since — 
since— for days I've been thinking. You know he never 
expected me to read the letter he left with you unless he 
died. 

Aunt Marthy (considerably nettled)— He can't lay no 
blame to us fer b'lievin' the papers. He was dead fer three 
days. An' what's more, ef he hednt a-been, I wouldn't 
a-ben drawed into no promise to let 'im hev ye, fer ye 
would never a-seen the letter. 

Madge (tearfully)— Well, you see, the awful part of It 
is, he had plenty of time to change his mind — about me — 
between that letter and — and the one you wrote' when we 
found he was alive. Of course, he can'i, very well do any- 
thing now but ask me to — Oh! I — I — (chokingly). 

Sarah Ann (shrilly, from without) — Mavthy ! 

Aunt Marthy (rising hurriedly) — He ain't changed his 
mind, (going to upper L. door). A fool never does, (goes 
out). 

Madge (coming forward to the couch) — And he wrote the 
letter before — before — he knew about — Cardenas — trying to 
— take me away. ( buries her face in her handkerchief) . 

A thud without, the result of a fallen stick of wood, 
prompts Madge to a hasty drying of the eyes, and a speedy 
feint at arranging the pillows on the couch. 

Sarah Ann enters at upper L. door. She has an armful 
of wood, a small stick in her hand. She looks grimly 
around. 

Sarah Ann (disdainfully, pointing the stick at R. wall) — 
Why didn't ye tell me ye didn't hev stuff enougli to hang 
them picters even. ( looking around at the furniture). A 
nice mess ye've made of it ! (Madge, standing behind the 
high-backed chair, her hands upon it, hides her face in 
them). I've got to go to gittin' supper now (going to the 
settle and raising the lid), an' I hain't no time to put 
things in place, (laying the wood carefully in the box). 
There ain't nothin' so heavy but ye could place it yerself, 
an 'ef ye hed a speck o' pride, ye'd do it before Roger — 

Madge (straightening up severely) — Colonel Fairfax! 

Sarah Ann (throwing In the rest of the wood, and rising 
as she slams the lid) — Huh ! ye needn't waste no breath 
Colonel Fairfaxin' me. (Madge sets her teeth, and clutching 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 51 



the chair with one hand, she pounds it with the other, ir- 
regularly and slowly). I've knowed Roger Fairfax sence 
he was knee-high to a grasshopper, an' I guess ef anybody 
liez a right to Roger 'im I hev. (turning to take out the step- 
ladder, she catches sight of the Cuban relics on the mantel- 
board). Them things from Cuby (Madge gives tlie chair a 
shove, goes to the coucli, seats herself with her back to 
Sarah Ann, picks up the magazine, and pretends to read, 
while she beats a tattoo on the carpet with an angry foot) 
air nice things to greet a man who's ben nigh kilt by them 
Stneakin' Cubyans. An' you're a fine American to stick 'em 
up thar. (turning and looking over Madge's slioulder). I 
hev a little taste ef (with a satisfied grin) I haint smart 
enough to read a book upside down. 

Madge (rising and flinging the book from her, her eyes 
flashing) — You're making up for lost time today, (going to- 
ward lower R. door). You'd better take your temper up to 
Miss Maedalen (the lower R. door is pushed quickly open) 
she wants her fire kindled. 

Aunt Marthy enters in haste. She is in outdoor attire, her 
mittens in her hand, but still wearing her apron. Catching 
sight of Sarah Ann's convulsed face, she stops short. 

Sarah Ann (feeling blindly for the ladder) — Ye found- 
lin' — 

Aunt Marthy (nervously) — Land alive! You two haint 
a-quarrelin' agin ! I reckoned ye'd keep peace to-day seein' 
ez Roger — 

Sarah Ann (endeavoring to mimic Madge)— Colonel Fair- 
fax! 

Aunt Marthy (laughing good-humoredly as she crosses 
to the coucli to look into the glass)— Jes' so ! jes' so ! I keep 
a-fergittin' thet. 

Madge, back of Aunt Marthy, but in plain view of Sarah 
Ann, throws a kiss to the latter with a sweeping curtsey. 

Aunt Marthy, in order to settle her bonnet to her taste, 
lays her mittens on the couch, catching sight of the shawl 
and pillow. 

Aunt Marthy (turning quickly to Madge) — Land alive! 
Madge Stebbins, the piller Magdalen give me, an' my Per- 
shy shawl ! Ye can't hev 'em out here. 

Sarah Ann moistens her lips with satisfaction as she looks 
malignantly at Madge. 

Madge (gruefully) — It's so — I thought nothing too good 
for Ro — Colonel Fairfax. 

Aunt Marthy (taking up the shawl to fold it reverently) 
— So 'taint ! So 'taint. But fust thing I know he may be 
took with one o' them Cubyan headaches in here, an' ye'll 
be a-lettin' the campfire run all over everythin'. Here, 
Sairey Ann, (handing her the shawl and pillow) do you put 
'em back in the chimblev-cunboard ! 

As Aunt Marthy stoops to pick up the pillows from the 
floor to arrange them stiffly on tlie couch. Sarah Ann, 
with the articles held gingerly, makes a stiff curtsey in a 
ludicrous endeavor to mimic Madge, and throwing a kiss, 
backs away to upper R. door through which she makes an 
awkward exit. 

Madge sends a black look after her. 

Aunt Marthy (with a final pat of her bonnet-tie, and a 
last survey in the glass) — I guess I'm ready at last. (Madge 
goes to take a gentle hold of the apron-strings) . I must be 
a-gittin' off (picking vip her mittens). 



52 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



Madge (laughing as she pulls a string)— This apron, yes. 

Aunt Marthy — ^Land alive ! 

Madge (her arms about Aunt Marthy's waist) — I wish 
I were going with you. Good-by ! 

Aunt Marthy (as Madge gives her a hasty kiss on the 
cheek) — What's thet fer? 

Magdalen enters upper L. door, in her hands a bunch of 
red roses. Her entrance is unobserved by the other occu- 
pants of the room. 

Madge (shyly, looking down) — For the Colonel. 

Magdalen, stopping near the window, eyes the scene com- 
prehendingly and coldly. 

Aunt Marthy (with embarrassed humor, as she goes 
quickly toward the lower R. door) — Psho ! 

Magdalen (smoothly) — Not off yet. Aunt Marthy? (Madge 
starts to fold up the apron). I'm afraid (going to the table) 
you'll miss Roger. (Madge's face stiffens). 

Aunt Marthy (drawing on her mittens) — Ef the clock's 
right I won't. Magdalen. Madge ! ( her hand on the door- 
knob) ye'd better fly round (looking approvingly at Mag- 
dalen who is in simple but elegant attire) an' git yer dress 
changed, (goes). 

Madge (as'de. turning jealous eyes on the roses, the stems 
of which Magdalen is disentangling) — Roger's favorite 
flower! (to Magdalen) It's nice (sweetly) to have money 
to get what you want directly you want it. isn't it? Colonel 
Fairfax loves red roses. We have you to thank for so much. 
I've jn^t learned that you (with an indicative gesture) made 
this change. S 

Magdaien (nonchalantly) — Aunt Marthy might as well 
have some of the furniture I've had stored away, (looking 
phont P'-^nwhat dreamily) It makes a great difference, 
doesn't it? 

Aiaage (Still sweetly) — Yes. indeed. It's a wonder you 
hadn't thousrht of it before. But just at this time it's 
specially nice, and I, for one, am deeply grateful to you. 
(going off to upper L. door). 

Magdalen (looking after her absently) — I'm glad you like 
it. 

Madee (at the door, her grateful expression tinged with 
triumph) — Yes. for Roger (eyeing Magdalen, who gives a 
slight start, then puts a thorn-pricked finser to her lips) 
Roger — and I — can never forget how pretty you (a slight 
emphasis on the you and a pause) made the room where he 
comes to ask me (slowlv and with drooping head as Magda- 
len faces her — ^to be — his wife. (goes). 

Maffdalen sways back as:ainst the table, gripping it fiercely 
with one hand, the other clutching hp^' gown at the throat, 
her face drawn and pale, her eves wilu. 

Magdalen (hoarsely) — His wife I She lies, lies I His wife! 
(sta<rgering forward) which means— for me — (tottering she 
reaches the chair near the couch) God. no! no. no! never! 
(sinking into the chair, shivering violently, and mechanical- 
ly chafing lier hards, lier eyes unseeing, fixed ahead). 

Darkness has fallen withoiit. 

Sarah Ann (entering upper L. door, lamp in hand, and 
instantly catching sight of Magdalen) — 'Magdalen ! (Mag- 
dalen takes no heed of the anxious voice, and the speaker, 
placing the lamn on the mantelboard. goes hurriedly to the 
chair). Magdalen! (relaxing her grimness. .softening the 
usuallv liarsh voice, and placing- a protestine hand on Mag- 
dalen's shoulder). I told ye (Magdalen sinks back looking 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 53 



up with a dazed air) not to go to the village, (kneeling to 
chafe the hands with rough kindliness) Ye haint well 'nuff 
to take care o' the sick now, an' ye hed no call to stay up 
all night a-tendin' 'em. Ye've money. Hire 'em cared fer. 
Ye'll be down sick agin. 

Magdalen (struggling to regain her composure and smiling 
feebly) — No, no! I got chilled. 

Sarah Ann (with peremptory kindness) — Ye mus' go to bed 

right away an' I'll 

Magdalen (wearily and. pleadingly) — Leave me here till 
my room is warm. 

Sarah Ann (going) — I'll bring ye some tea an' sunthin' to 
eat. (Goes out with ladder at upper L. door.) 

Mlagdalen (rising weakly and shivering again)— If the 
chill of fear, the numbne.ss of despair, might give way to 
food and warmth ! (With uncertain steps she reaches the 
fireplace, and, resting her hands on the mantelboard, bows 
her head on them.) Roger! Roger! (Raising her head, one 
hand falling listlessly at her side, she looks miserably into 
the fire.) If she has not lied, then you have given your 
heart to Madge, to Madge, who will never learn your 
precious worth. While I — (raising her head proudly, her 
face softened with lovel'ght, her eyes full of fire)— I could 
give you a love e(|iial to your own — a love mighty in its 
g'-owth '"f fi-ffeen years, (looking suddenly into the glass). 
Ah ! God ! It is too old by fifteen years. It is young love 
you seek — (passionately) — love uncertain, untried — that a 
breath may kill. (Turning with a start from the glass, her 
lips pairted, her breath coming fast.) Shall I kill It? No, 
no! (with a half-frenzied laugh), I'll leave that for you to 
do, Roger. (Shifting her position, her right hand comes in 
contact with Roger's photograph, which falls to the floor at 
her feet, face up. Her glance followiag rests on it.) Roger! 
(Her hands clasped at her bosom, a contented smile on her 
lips.) At my feet! (Stopping suddenly she snatches up 
the picture, and, kneeling close to the couch, her elbows on 
it, she regards the picture tenderly.) Your dear eyes — they 
are pleading — begging me — no ! no ! I shall save you, 
Roger, save you to-day, now ! I shall tell her all and beg 
her for pity — beg her — (with a harsh, bitter laugh) — her! 
Madge! (Burying her face in the pillows, the picture be- 
neath her bosom, her arms outstretched across the couch, 
her hands clenched together.) 

Madge enters (juietly at lower R. door. She is attired In 
a simple but fetching gown, and her first glance is into the 
looking-glass. She looks intently at the reflection with a 
pleased smile. 

Magdalen (with a half-sob, her position unchanged) — 
Madge ! 

Madge (starting back, as her eyes rest on Magdalen, her 
face and voice full of insolence) — Well ! (Magdalen, raising 
her face, cowers back for an instant.) I'm here, (unfeel- 
ingly). What do you want ? 

Magdalen (on one knee, her left hand supporting her on 
the couch, her fingers tightly clutching the p. How, her face 
drawn with misery) — You — (gasping) — I 

Madge (coldly) — 111 again! I'll call Sarah, (starting 
across the room). 

Magdalen (st'-uggling to her feet) — No — (imploringly) — 
no! I want — you. (Madge stops near the chair at C. In 
rising Magdalen pushes off the pillow, and the photograph 



54 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



falls to the floor on the farther side of the couch.) I — have 
— (faintly, as she walks unsteadily around the head of the 
couch) — a confession — to make. 

Madge, after a suspicious glance, has picked up the 
picture. 

Madge (holding out the picture, her whole attitude one 
of withering scorn) — This (with cutting emphasis) fell from 
the conch. 

■Magdalen (trembling and endeavoring to steady herself 
by the chair) — I — listen' I 

Madge (in scornful fury) — You listen to me! That you 
love Roger Fairfax, I know. 

Magdalen (with a supreme effort, drawing herself up 
with dignity) — My confession is 

Madge (beside herself with rage) — That he loves you! 
That he learned to love you in the days gone by, and didn't 
discover it till you posed as a model of self-sacrlflce in a 
Ped Tt-ors p-ov/n": That he's coming to-day to tell me this! 
Oh: (wirli a wild, mirthless laughs, this (holding out the 
picture) tells your story well ! This picture (setting her 
teeth and tearing it in two) that, like the orirriral. you'"n 
made yours with your kisses (Magdalen starts back, lifting 
her hand in protest, her lips open) I want no longer' 
You're welcome to the man that I (throwing the pasteboard 
at Magdalen's feet) fling at your feet. Don't forget (going 
toward the table), Magdalen Van Orsdale, that I flung him 
there! (The lower R. door opens to admit Roger.) You 
are quite good enough for 

Magdalen (starting forward as the dcor closes somewhat 
hastily) — Roger! 

Roger stands just within the door in an attitude of calm 
inquiry. He is in civilian attire, his overcoat unbuttoned, 
hat ard gloves in hand. 

Madge (facing abruptly about in position near the table, 
with a low, mocking bow) — Colonel Fairfax! How very 
timely! (Roger goes to lay his hat and gloves on the 
table.) To shorten your suspense — let me inform you now — 
I cannot marry you ! 

Roger (sternly, his face dark) — Y'our reason ! 

Masdalen turns to Madge with a look of pitiful entreaty. 

Madge points a scornful finger at Magdalen. 

Masrdalen (stonily, as Roger turns to her) — Her birth. 

Madge starts violently. 

Roger (sternly) — What of it? 

Magdalen (with painful slowness) — That she^ — is — is — 
(Roger and Madge both lean forward, the former in calm 
inteutness. the latter with bated breath) — the child of — 
parents who — were — never married ! 

Roger (falling back) — God ! 

Madge (spriagirig forward with the fury of a young 
tigress) — A lie! She is trying to ruin me because she loves 
you, Roger Fairfax ! 

Roger (ignoring iSt^dge and leaning heavily against the 
table) — You (hoarsely) s.vtar it'.' 

M^agdalen (v/ith' a stony look into space) — I swear it ! ' 

Madge (shrilly, with curling lip) — Perhaps you know 
my — father. 

Maftdalen — I did know him. 

Roger (in the calmness of despair) — His name. 

Magdalen — Cajetan Cardenas. 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 55 

Ohl^^^^ (^^J^'°8" back and gasping in intense anguish)^ 

Roger (with a dazed, despairing glance at Madge) — A 
traitor and— my God ! Magdalen, no— not that ! He knew— 
he told you — 

Magdalen (still stonily, and as if repeating a lesson)— I 
was with him just before he was shot " 

Roger (brokenly)— Her— the mother— is she dead? 

Magdalen — No. 

Madge again leans forward mechanically. 

Roger (with bowed head)— Who is her" mother? 

Magdalen (raising a haggard, hopeless face)— I am. (She 
Ro-er '^^'*^^^ ^^^ ^^^'^ swooning between Madge and 

Roger stands transfixed with horror. 

Madge shrinks back stunned by the heavy blow. 

CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 



Scene 2— Same as preceding. Three weeks later. The 
ground IS white with snow, and the thickly falling flakes 
allow but a limited view of the sea. 

The arrangement of the room is but slightly changed 
The couch stands a little farther from the fireplace in 

biigS 'colo'il^ a'S.';""" ^''''' ^^^ '^^ '' ^^^ --^ '- - 

tI;^ ciSSc'lS^^J^f^Jb^S-JSl/S^^^ '' "^^^^ ^'^^^ 

At i-ise of curtain Aunt Marthy is discovered in the im- 
mediate foreground, seated in the rocker at lower end of 
leisSre'knUtfng"'*'^ '"^'"^ ""■ ^''''- ^^^ ^« employinfher 

Aunt Marthy (shaking her head sIowly)-,An' my house 
is still a-harborin' the sinful. (Looking up with a bewHd 
ered air, and pushing her glasses up on her head.) I've 
tried to make out Tm a-dreamin' but Magdalen's in thar 
ipprt pf3 lower L. door with a jerky wave of the knitting 
needle) an' (a short pause ef I'd a-wanted to I couldn't 
a-turned 'er outen a sick bed (replacing her glassk on her 
nose and resuming her knitting).' Anyways I lecSn ? cai 
be ez merciful (with a short, puzzled huigh) e? Saift? 
Ann. (dropping her knitting fn her lap). An'xAIagdalen's 
the reason Sairey Ann hain't ben to church these seventee^ 
year! sliaking her head and taking up her knitting) 

Sarah Ann enters with her knitting and a letter 
fh« h?ol k"'', ^i^^'in^ip^? out the letter and seating herself in 
^n^.!^'?^'^^^'!''''?-'^^'^'^"' immediately beginning on a near v 
th^^^r^o^f fA^'^'^l"^ -.^^^"^ ^^^^^^^- was to town an' got 
the mail. (Aunt Marthy, without attempting to break the 



56 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



seal, scans the superscription with uncertainty, holding the 
envelope now close, now at a distance.) It took me quite 
a spell to git it. He was bound and detarmined to find 
out whar it come from. 

Aunt Marthy (to herself)! hain't sure. (Uncertainly.) 
It looks like Roger's. 

Sarah Ann — He didn't git nothin' outen me. (with lips 
pinched together with satisfaction). Talk about the curios- 
ity o' women! (seeing Aunt Marthy still studying the en- 
velope). The envelope is open. I thought I'd jes" open it 
fer ye. (Aunt Marthy takes out the letter.) Feed a man 
well, Marthy Jane, an' ye can git 'im to do most anythin'. 
Aunt Marthy (with a humorous smile while scanning the 
letter) — Ye know a powerful lot about men, Sairey Ann. 
(her eyes on the page before her, her face regretful, her 
voice mingled regret and sternness). Roger's a-comin' day 
after to-morrow mornin'. (glancing back to the heading). 
Thet's to-day. (looking up quickly at the clock). What ye 
goin' to hev fer dinner, Sairey Ann? 

Sarah Ann (with a grim smile) — Sunthin' good. Howsom- 
ever, I opine ye won't manage Roger, feed er no feed, (knit- 
ting jerkily). Did I tell ye Maggie wants ye? 

Aunt Marthy (sharply — as she impatiently drops her 
hands in her lap) — Maggie! I can't fer the life o' me see 
how ye can be so hard on Madge an' so powerful easy on 
Magdalen. 

Sarah Ann (primly) — Magdalen's Magdalen — 
Aunt Marthy (somewhat fiercely) — An' Madge is Maggie! 
Sarah Ann (her knitting suspended, an ear bent toward 
lower L. door) — I guess (with exaggerated gentleness) 
Magdalen's up. (Snappingly cold, as she rises, folding up her 
work) — An' Maggie's a good deal o' thet heathenish Cubyan. 
(dropping the ball which rolls within a few paces of Aunt 
Marthy). 

Aunt Marthy (trembling with anger, and managing after 
several unsuccessful attempts to replace the letter in the 
envelope) — Her father. An' give Magdalen lief right name, 
too. Mebbe then (Sarah Ann Ann recovers the ball) ye 
won't fergit thet 'taint Madge's fault the names b'long 
to 'em. (Sarah Ann, with uplifted head, goes out lower L. 
door.) Huh! (attempting to knit, her hands trembling). 
Land alive ! Marthy Jane Stebbins. but ye be In a temper ! 
(dropping hei; hands on the letter in her lap). I wish 
Roger wa'n't a-comin'. 'Twon't do no good, (sighing). I 
aim to see my way clear, an' (looking into the fire) I hope 
I'm a-doin' right. I've prayed an' prayed, though Sairey Ann 
said she thought 'twa'n't a fit subject to take before the 
Lord. (Her elbow on her knee, her chin in her hand.) 
But ef sech things air 'lowed fer — (resting heri head in both 
hands) — Lord fergive me! I dunno what I'm a-sayin*. Do 
you I'emember. Lord (Roger, divested of hat and overcoat, 
enters lower R. door), I ain't accountable, I ain't! 
Roger (going across) — Good morning. Aunt Marthy! 
Aunt Marthy rises to meet the outstretched hand, her 
movements still uncertain, and struggling with the intense 
desire to give a hearty welcome and to maintain an atti- 
tude of stern, unwavering decision. 

Aunt Martha (coldly) — Good mornin'. (lamely). Ye 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 57 

hedn't ought to a-come, Roger, (regaining lier cliair me- 
ohsmicflllv ) 

Roger (going to the fireplace to warm his hands) — Not 
to come home. Aunt Marthy— to the place that's been a dear 
home to me for twenty years? As many times as I ve come 
to it (looking meditatively across the room) never before 
have I failed to receive a hearty welcome. (Aunt Marthy 
knits with flustered fingers.) Perhaps (turning slowly to 
her) vou didn't mean to greet me coldly. When I came 
in I heard you say you aren't accountable, (taking an en- 
velope from, his pocket aud handing its contents to her). 
I hope. Aunt Marthy, you aren't in any way accountable for 
this letter 

Aunt Marthy (handing the sheet back after a hasty 
glance)— I guess I be, Roger, (mournfully) I g"ess I be. 

Roger (looking down at the -folded page)— After three 
weeks' weary watching of the post, this comes to me. (Aunt 
Marthy gives a sadly affirmative nod over her work.) Poor 
child ' (looking tenderly at the m'.ssive) evidently words 
failed her. "Dear Roger. Good-bye, Madge" (putting the 
re-enveloped letter in his pocket . and turning to Aunt 
Marthy). And I've always trusted you to stand miy 
f rienci 

Aunt Marthy (with unexpected firmness)— I'm a-provin' 
worthy o' yer trust (knitting fiercely). I'm a-savln ye 
from yerself Roger. Yer word was give to Madge when ye 
knowed nothin' 'bout her antycedents, an' ye haint the 
kind thet sneaks outen anythin'. reason er no reason. 

Roger (slowly and wearily) — You know if I wished Madge 
to release me I shouldn't hesitate to ask her. I realize 
only to-day how dearly I love her, bowed beneath this yoke 
of despair and shame, (walking abstractedly). She cant 
bear it alone, (coming back to Aunt Marthy). You cant 
help her. I am perhaps the only one who can. (stopping 
near the head of the couch). Still you would force aside 
the support my love can give, (going to chair at R- o^pje- 
place). Have you thought about the end of this? What 
will vou do with Madge (sitting and eyeing Aunt Marthy 
keenly). What will Madge do with herself? 

Aunt Marthy (sighing deeply and shaking her head) — The 
Lord knows. , . , , ,. , 

Roger (after studying for a moment the seemingly stolid 
face) — Madge is too young to be tried as she is: too sensi- 
tive to face the world alone ; and not of a nature to reason 
it all out calmly with a future of unbroken darkness pre- 
sented to her. Aunt Marthy (watching her closely), the 
child's mind may not stand the strain. (Aunt Marthy 
snaps the knotted! yarn.) , , ^ 

Aunt Marthy (in an unyielding tone, though her fingers 
tremble at their task of splicing the broken thread) — It 
•ud be the will o' the Lord, Roger. 

Roger (quietly) — That the innocent should suffer for the 

guilty. ,,_, . - 

Aunt Marthy (firmly) — The law's written. "The sins of 

tViA "ffithpr^'' 

Roger — A law of man. No merciful God would make 
such a law. 

Aunt Marthy (with a gasp)— Roger ! 

Roger (fervently) — You aim to be a Christian. Aunt 



58 A MODERN MAGDALEN 

Marthy, I know. You have pity for the sinner, but you with- 
hold every saving grace from the sinned against. 

Aunt Marthy (rising hurriedly and rolling up her knit- 
ting) — There ain't no use talkin'. Ye've got to give Madge 
up, an' ve might ez well take it like a m^B. . 

Roger— If I should give Madge up I'd be unworthy the 
name of man. (As Aunt Marthy goes toi lower R. door.) 
Shall I ask Sarah Ann to tell Madge I'm waiting to see 
her '! 

Aunt Marthy (turning abruptly) — I hain't a-goin' to let 
ye see 'er. 

Roger (calmly) — Very well, then. Aunt Marthy (going 
to her). I'll bid you good-bye now. I shall never come 
here again. 

Aunt Marthy (with a hurt look, slowly) — Never come 
here agin. 

Roger — You couldn't expect it. 

Aunt Marthy (after a momentary hesitation) — I'll tell 
'er (going hastily to the door), but it won't do no good. 
(Goes out.) 

Roger — Madge, my little girl, when you come what shall 
I say to youV (Somewhat despairingly.) What that I 
haven't written? 'Magdalen enters lower L door. She is 
attired in a rich morning gown. Pale and weak from ill- 
ness, she seeks for supnort the nearest chair — that near the 
fireplace. She regards Roger uncertainly.) I must find 
words to win you over, for I shall never give you up. 
(Magdalen shivers, turning slightly with a gesture of des- 
pair.) M'agdalen 1 (going quickly toward her) this is mad- 
ness : 

Magdalen (trembling but making a decisive step for- 
ward) — No. (With Roger's assistance she reaches the 
couch, where she sinks down, facing the fireplace.) I must 
speak with you. 

Roger (gently hut firmly) — Not about Madge. (Going to 
lower end of fireplace and resting his arm on the mantle- 
board) — Spare yourself, Magdalen. 

Magdalen (looking into the fire) — I want to thank you for 
the flowers that helped make ray illness bearable. They 
told me (bowing a miserable face) you do not scorn me. 

Roger (deprecatmgly) — To me you are an esteemed friend 
of long years standing. That is sufficient for me. 

Magdalen — But not for me (looking up with eyes full of 
piteous appeal). I would explain to you what — Cajetan 
Cardenas was — how I 

Roger (with gentle but firm insistence) — I can imagine 
what Cardenas was. 

Magdalen (with sad eagerness, her hands clasped tightly 
in her lap) — 'Not what he was eighteen years ago. (looking 
reminiscently into the fire). He was different then — hand- 
some, daring, fascinating. (Roger seats himself in the 
rocker) and well liked. He was just Madge's age when I 
first met him. I was on I" sixteen With my parents I 
was visiting on the plantation adjoining his. We saw 
each other every day. He (with dreamy regretful tender- 
ness) led me into a Pai'adise( starting as if from a dream, 
the features drawn, the voice bitterly sad) — then- — the same 
hand that opened its gates for me thrust me outside them 
where — alone — I looked into the yawning mouth of hell. 

Roger — Why recall such scathing bitterness':' 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 59 



Magdalen (unheeding and looking dreamily into the fire) — 
I prayed for death. It came^ — for Father. We brought 
him home — Mother and I. luen we came to Sarah Ann's, 
v^ere Mother died. So — (the fingers tightening, head and 
body drooping dejectedly) — my disgrace was my secret and 
Sarah Ann's. 

Koger — And Cardenas 

Magdalen (shuddering) — Never knev*'. I never heard of 
him nor saw him again till last summer — the first time 
when I told him the night before the battle none should 
ever know he had betrayed — me (shuddering). 

Roger — You told him then? 

Magdalen (coldlv and bitterly) — No. 

Roger — In his last moments— — 

Magdalen — -No. Madge was worse than nothing to him. 

Roger (sternly, his gaze turned irom Magdalen) — Being 
worse than nothing r^he escaped, (turning searching eyes 
on Magdalen's averted face). To you— what is she? 

Magdalen (bitterly) — A thorn (strangling a sob and fling- 
ing out her left arm, her despairing finger:* clutching the 
couch for support as she sways sideways, head and body 
bent in dejection) of my own gathering — but still — a thorn. 
To you (faintly, her right hand clenched on her knee) 

Roger (rising, his face suffused with tender light) — To 
l^ she is a beautiful bud — the flower of my life. 

Magdalen (still resting on lier hand and. flinging herself 
back, her darkened face upturned to Roger, her voice wildly 
harsh) — A bud whose fresh young beauty blinds you to the 
thorn she hides — the nature of Cardenas. All! (leaning 
forward and gazing ahead) it will some day pierce you to 
the heart, (sitting upright and passionately commanding). 
Give her up ! 

Roger (looking calmiy down into the upturned face) — 
Nevei- ! 

Magdalen (sinking on her knees) — With all my heart 
and soul in the prayer, I implore you to give her up ! 
(Roger lifts her to her feet.) For yovir own sake, I beg 
you. 

Roger (in measured tones and keeping tight hold of the 
clasped hands) — Magdalen, you might well go on your knees 
to plead for your child (Magdalen shudders, her head 
bowed), not against her. Your heart should know only a 
woman's tenderest love and pity for this child for which 
you are so terribly responsible. A man could hardly be 
capable of greater 

Magdalen — Of greater hatred of his ill-born child. No — 
(throwing back her head with a v.'ild, harsh laugh) be- 
cause he'd never willingly own to the responsibility, be- 
cause if he began to acknowledge such claim — ah. well ! 
I know that I am accountable for the human existence of 
but one branded soul — a constant living reminder of my 
folly — no! (bitterly) of her father's (with a laugh of 
wild scorn) folly and my crime. The girl is mine, (with 
intense passion). It is my right (with fine sarcasm) to 
try to prevent her doing harm — above all, when that harm 
threatens — a friend — (the voice breaking into gentleness) — 
the best friend a woman ever knew (turning wearily to 
aiuk down on the couch facing the fire). 

Roger (quickly crossing toward lower R. door, which 



60 A MODERN^MAGDALEN ^ ^ 

opens sli£rhtly» — Therefore, your daughter needs me. (The 
auor ciosiug as by a arait,. he tvirus back vo Iviagdaieii.) 
\ou siiouia WiSii me goaspeed lu my struggle to wiu ner for 
my wite. 

..la^^^ciien (without turning, her voice dull and spirit- 
less^ — A£ you vviu 1 uusL you may quicKiy lorget mat your 
wue is daughter of — a — traitor 

xvogef — wiiiie 1 reLueinuei ouiy that her mother is a 
woii^c^^ rtUo nad loree eijc/ugn or cnaiacier to rise from her 
fall, 10 ga tiler together the stained aua broKen threads of 
iifi. iiie, a^au wcc^ve tueui ii.lo ixie \\nneiiess of aays and 
years uusputteu Dy sm ana stamped vvitn a multitude of 
go^u utt'os. V wiin a stiucu sou iviagoaieu mugs her arms 
over tne head of the coucn, burying ner face m the pillow.) 
J.OU v^oxi^g ueaier nerj must remember 

Mauge enters upper i.. Uoor. ine fresh roundness is 
gone j.iom lier cbteiis and ner eyes are auli ana aeeply 
xingeu. ;5ue stops sl msiue the uoor as her gaze falls on 
iuasv^a^en. 

itoger — Madge, my darling! (going toward her with out- 
stren-iied uiuisj. 

Maage (pointing coldly to Magdalen's prostrate figure) 
— \ou sent tor me (Koger s eager steps are arrested) to heJir 
me say i forgive her. (.dropping her arm beavily). i can- 
not. 

Magdalen (with a short, sneering laugh, raising her head 
sligULiy) — 1 Uon t ask it. 

i-foger (sorruvvtuiiy regarding Madge's averted face) — ^I 
sent lor you to beg you to listen to me. 

Mauge (with a gesture oi weariness) — I received your 
letters (goiug nearer the window, pulling back the drapery, 
leanmg ner tired heaa agamst her uplifted arm, ana ao- 
sentiy watcnrng the tnicKiy tailing snuw ) is there (wicn- 
out turning axouna, ner tune aiSinterfested) anything you 
haven t samV 

Koger (bis hand on the chair at R. of bay) — Yes, the 
rignt thing. 

.uadge (Uuskily) — Don't look for it ! I'm doing the right 
thlng^and — 

Koger (passionately) — No, Madge, no! In sending me 
from you you don t realize what you are doing. 

Madge (wearily) — Perhaps not. But — Aunt Marthy must 
know best, and (turning to throw a sneering glance at 
Magdalen) even she there on the cotich — 

Maguaien (with a low, mocking laugh, raising her head 
to meet Madge's glance) she knows best, too. 

Madge ^unmoved) — fehe says I'd be doing a criminal 
wrong to marry you. 

Roger (in a ringing voice, going a few steps nearer Madge) 
— In accepting my name, my protection and my care, you 
would put no wrong upon me. While I — 1 could give you 
rights instead — hope tor despair, joy for sorrow (pathetic 
longing struggles with the resolve in Madge's face), light 
for darkness (seeing her emotion. Roger quickly gains her 
side, taking her half-unwilling hand in both his eager ones). 
Madge, don't trample on the love that you can make the 
crown of my life ! Don't let your own love, your own heart, 
deny me ! 

Madge (faintly, endeavoring successfully to free herself) — 
For your own sake. 

Roger — For my own misery if you persist in sending me 
from you. Madge, dear heart! (laying a hand tenderly on 



A MODERN MAGDALEN 61 



her shoulder) isn't your faith, your trust, in me strong 
enough to teach you I couldn't wish you to do a wrong i 
Magdalen (In anguish) — Oh! God! 

Roger (putting his hand under Madge's chin and gently 
raising her face) — Look at me ! (the eyes still droop). Aren't 
you sure of your love for me, dear? 

Madge (turning impetuously, passionately, toward him 
to lay her hands on his shoulders, her eyes also speaking 
for her heart) — So sure of it. Roger — Roger — that if you 
leave me I shall die! Oh! (falling back a little, her hands 
clasped tightly to her breast) I — can't — (Aunt Marthy en- 
ters lower R. door, and meeting her glance Madge flings her- 
self back with a low, bitter cry) — I can't— (harshly) no! I 
must — not — forget I can no longer boast a name — (with a 
discordant laugh, a sneer on her lips) — not even Stebbms. 
Roger (quietly) — I have offered you Fairfax. 
Madge (chokingly) — To drag in the mire. No! (Aunt 
Marthy crosses to the table where she stands with bowed 
head). No! we must say good-by. , . .^i. 

Magdalen (slowly rising to a sitting position) — Ah. (with 
intcnsG relief) . 

Madge (with a look of bitter hatred, her voice thick with 
it)— Yes, I know, you — you who have cursed me — (Magdalen 
shivering, buries her face again) are more than sarisfied 
(turning to hold out both her hands to Roger) Good-by! 
God — if there is a God who will hear the prayer of one like 
me — God bless you! (with piteous entreaty mingled with 
command) Go ! , ^ . , ^ ^ 

Roger (tightly holding her hands and fixing clear, deter- 
mined eyes on her face) — I must obey your command my 
little girl, but it is good-by only for a little while. .1 have 
not given you up. (gently touching her foreliead with his 
lips he turns to go). . ^^ ^ ^ t^- 

Madge (moaning and hiding her face in the drapery) — It 
is good-by forever. 

As Roger passes Aunt Marthy he stops, regarding her re- 
proachfully for a second, then she making no sign he goes to 
the hall-door, turning to send a tender, loving glance to 

Aunt Marthy (as Roger reaches the door) — ^Roger ! (He 
turos hestitatingly). Don't go yit ! (Madge turns about, 
sending her a bewildered glance). I'm all m the dark yit 
(shakily). But I've arrove to the conclusion thet in this 
like otlier dark places ye've got to go accordin' to yer feelin 
(Madge comes slowly and mechanically forward) My feelm 
is, Madge, we might ez well give i.i, fer Roger aint a-goin 

^Roger (half-incredulous) — Aunt Marthy! (taking her 
hand) 

Aunt Marthy — I mean it! _ . . ,r ^i . u ^n 

Roger (after pressing fervent liPS to Aunt Marthy s hanu) 
Madge, vou'll come to nie row. dear'." 

Madge turns uncertainly toward Axmt Marthy. 

Aunt Marthv (much flustered and eager to get away)— - 
I guess ye'd better, (to Madge's questioning look). Take er ! 
(to Roger, as she goes hurriedly out lower R. door). 

Roger (taking Madge in his arms find tenderly stroking 
her hair) — And vou dared to stand out against me! 

Madge (with a sob. her face hidden) — ^It was Aunt Mar- 
thv — 

Roger — God bless her kind heart ! 



62 A MODERN MAGDALEN 



Madge (turning towards the couch, her face darkening 
with hatred) — And she — 

Roger (with self-reproach at his forgetfulness) — Magda- 
len I (going to the couch) Forgive me! (laying his hand on 
Magdalen's head) Magdalen, dear friend I (his fingers touch- 
ing her face, he starts, turning the head slightly. At the 
note of fear in his voice. Madge is drawn slowly toward 
him). My God! (falling back) Dead I (reaching out his 
arms to Madge, who clings close to him) Dead ! 

CURTAIN. 



»(/.* 



1 cor> oti. »o CAi.D'v. 
SEP. 25 1902 



^o t^02 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

llillililllllillilllilllllllill 

015 988 556 2 



